


Our Time In The Dark

by LeoTheAvengingLioness333



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, Avengers come in later, Cap fighting Nazis, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Finally!, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Romance, Romanogers 40s AU, Slow Burn, Somewhat Graphic Violence, Violence, WIP, all that good stuff, also i will be editing the summary for this story at some point soon, and more violence in ch13, because it sucks, fighting hydra, fun history stuff though!, including adult situations, it isn't called slow burn for nothing, it's the red room, its gonna get violent, lots of flashbacks, mostly undertones of stucky and steggy, red room warnings, romanogers is the main ship, slight slight hints of non-con, smut later on, some red room in ch16, this is wwii, violence and terribleness, warning for rape in ch13, warnings for ch19, we're getting closer to the good stuff, will run through till CATWS at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 95,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoTheAvengingLioness333/pseuds/LeoTheAvengingLioness333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve first met Natasha he certainly hadn't expected her to join the team. He had been on a mission. And she had tried to kill him. But he's always been one to give people a second chance, tried to see the best in them even when they couldn't. And somewhere along those lines, they went from begrudged teammates to friends and finally-with the realization hitting him like a brick-to something completely and wonderfully more. Getting frozen for almost 70 years complicates things a little though. And what's more complicated is waking up and finding out that the girl he loved in the 40s is just as alive as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously have no clue where I even got this idea, but here it is nonetheless. Mostly because I couldn't stop thinking about it until I actually started writing it down.
> 
> So I put the summary for this from Steve's POV, but the story itself is actually mostly from Natasha's POV. Basically for this story it's a 40s AU, meaning Natasha was alive during the 40s as well. (I realize that she actually was alive during the 40s in the comics, but this is mostly MCU so). Anyway, I'm having her born in 1918 (again, comics it's 1914, but this way she's the same age she is in MCU). 
> 
> There is stuff from the comics in here, like the Red Room and so on. I haven't read any of the comics, so anything I get from them is what I have researched, so if I get anything, let me know! An important incorporation from the comics is that I'm having Natasha have been injected with the Red Room equivalent of the super-soldier serum. I don't think I'm making it quite as potent, but it does affect her aging as well as her strength, and speed somewhat.
> 
> I think that's it for now...this is cross-posted on FF. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Outskirts of Strasbourg, France; 1946_            

Natasha felt like her lungs were going to burst. She was running faster than she’d ever run in her life. Her boots pounded against the pavement, echoing in her ears, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of her own heart beating against her ribcage. She gripped her pistol tighter, ready to put her finger on the trigger at any moment. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see the ruins of the old warehouse district she had just come from. One of the buildings was burning, flames licking out its shattered window, smoke billowing into the lightening sky of the coming dawn.

            It was supposed to be one of those ‘get in, get out’ missions. She, along with a dozen other newly dubbed SHIELD agents, had gone in to scope out the warehouse. It had once held an old Hydra cell that had splintered off after Red Skull died, and they were simply going in to see if they left anything behind. As it turned out, the abandoned group of warehouses hadn’t been so empty after all. The other SHIELD agents were all dead; all of them either gunned down or fallen victim to the inferno.

            Natasha wasn’t running from the fire or from the pesky Hydra goons that had been scattered throughout the building. No, she was running from the person—the _thing_ —that had killed a whole team of men, everyone but her. She hadn’t seen much—he was fast. _Very_ fast. The only thing she remembered seeing of him through the smoke and shadow of the building was the silver glint of something on his left arm. The rest of him had been dressed in black, as if he had been born of the smoke itself.

            Usually, Natasha probably would have stayed behind to fight the adversary, to make him pay for taking the lives of those good men. But she had watched the deadly stranger take out each and every one of her agents with terrifying precision, either with his gun or a well-aimed grenade, leaving only her standing. And instead of aiming his gun at her head in the sheer delight of saving her for last, he’d aimed his gun lower, at one of her kneecaps. That’s when she’d realized that he didn’t mean to kill her. He meant to hobble her, cripple her enough so he could take her. She watched him through the haze. He slowly inched his finger onto the trigger, taking his precious time because he knew he had her. She was about to dodge; at least maybe then she could get away with a graze, if she was lucky.

            As it turned out, she had a stroke of luck when a fire from one of his grenades sparked against the gas line of an old water heater that sat against the far wall, at least fifty feet away. The air seemed to still for a split second, right before an explosion rocked the entire warehouse. Natasha had been thrown to the side, landing hard on her shoulder, hitting her head against the solid floor. Her vision went black. She could feel the heat from the explosion against her back, singeing the ends of her hair. Craning her neck, squinting through the haze, she couldn’t help but think of a different building, a different fire. It seemed like yesterday, though it had been a couple years now. She could almost feel Steve standing beside her, shielding her from the flames, just like he had done when they first met.

She kept telling herself to move, to run and get out of there, away from the fire and away from the strange man. _Get up, Natasha. Get up!_ Her brain screamed at her, but she couldn’t seem to move. She wondered if it would be so bad if she stayed here, waiting for the flames to engulf her. Maybe then she’d see Steve. She wasn’t a believer; not in God, not in a higher power. She knew that she was alive and one day she would die. End of story. But maybe, maybe there was an afterlife. One could hope, right? She wondered, though, if there _was_ afterlife, if she would really end up where Steve was. She figured it was more likely that she would go down, not up. _Up…get_ up. _Get up get up get up! Run, Natasha, run! Natasha! Run!_ She could still hear her mind screaming at her. And then it changed. It changed from her own subconscious voice to Steve’s voice, screaming at her, pleading her to get up and _run._

            Natasha gasped and coughed when she inhaled smoke. She dragged herself across the floor a few feet, rubbing dirt and ash into the scrapes on her palms. She pulled herself to her feet, reaching for her gun that had fallen a couple yards away. As she stumbled towards the door, she risked looking over her shoulder to see if the man had been downed by the explosion. For a brief moment, she felt relief flare in her chest. Then she saw him rise out of the smoke and ash. A deadly phoenix ready to burn her. She took a few unsteady steps towards the door and then turned and ran.

Natasha was running now, down the empty, weed-pocketed road that led away from the group of warehouses. She could see the gate in front of her, could see the jeeps parked just outside the tall, iron fence. She was just about to break through on the other side when a body knocked into her, causing her to drop her gun, and a cold hand wrapped around the back of her neck and slammed her into the chain-link fence in front of her, 

            She gasped, the wire digging into her cheek as the hand squeezed. Then she was thrown onto the ground and she crawled backwards on all fours, staring up at her opponent. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and goggles over his eyes, so the only thing she saw of him was his dark, shaggy hair that looked like it hadn’t been cut in several months. In the light of the coming day, the silver glint she had seen in the warehouse, what she had assumed was part of the protective gear he wore, she now saw that it actually _was_ his arm. His right arm was all flesh and bone and blood. The arm of a fragile human. But his left arm was completely metal, emblazoned with a blood-red star. The arm of a man that was now part machine.

            Natasha scrambled for her gun, but the man caught her leg and dragged her towards him. She gave a defiant cry, kicking out with her other foot. He blocked the blow, but by then he’d pulled her close enough so that, when he bent down to grab her arm, she was able to swing her free leg up around his neck. She twisted out of his grasp, bringing her other leg up around his neck, and squeezed with her thighs, trying to choke the air out of his lungs. He clawed at her, trying to get her off.

Unfortunately for her, he managed to get a hold of her wrist and he used his whole body, creating enough momentum to tear her off of him. She landed hard on her back, all the air rushing out of her lungs with a gasp. Natasha attempted to stand, but he backhanded her, the metal cracking across her face, sending her straight down to the pavement. She could taste blood in her mouth, the coppery liquid coating her tongue and lips. She flipped onto her back, staring up at the man. He loomed over her. Part of her just wanted to lay there and let him take her. But in the back of her mind, just like in the warehouse, she could hear Steve murmuring, encouraging to keep going, keep fighting.

With all her strength, she swung out one leg, knocking the man off his feet. He twisted, to avoid hitting his head. He didn’t stay down long, either, but just long enough for Natasha to rush to her feet and push through the gate. She slammed it behind her and rushed to one of the jeeps. She had just gotten the door open when he grabbed her sleeve, dragging her back a few feet.

“No!” she screamed. She would _not_ let him take her.

She grabbed the arm that was holding her and dropped to one knee, the momentum allowing her to flip the man over her shoulder. He stayed down for a second, dazed. She took her opening. Natasha jumped over him and managed to get inside the jeep and lock the door. She had just started the engine when his metal fist slammed through the window, causing glass to rain down upon her. His hand fisted in her jacket—a leather jacket that had once been Steve’s that she swore still smelled like him sometimes—and the man tried dragging her through the window.

Shards of glass that remained in the window frame bit into her palms and she tried to grab hold of the jeep and keep him from taking her. Blood trickled down her fingers, weakening her grip as her hands became slippery. She screamed in protest, but the stranger’s grasp only tightened and he finally succeeded in pulling her out, glass scraping her lower back and thighs as she was dragged out and dropped unceremoniously onto her back.

Natasha could do nothing but watch as he brought his metal fist down against her temple and everything went black.

-:-

_Stalingrad, Russia; December 1943_

_Steve lowered his binoculars and tucked them into one of the bags on his motorcycle. He walked back a little ways into the trees, his boots crunching in the snow underfoot. He joined the rest of his Howling Commandos where they stood around the hood of one of their trucks, looking over a blueprint of the building they were about to raid. They were situated on a hill that overlooked a small military-like compound. The area was surrounded by tall wire fences, topped with barbed wire. There were hills on two sides, giving the compound cover, but also providing Steve and his comrades with a very good view of the entire place._

_The building they were looking at was the base of operations for the program they were trying to infiltrate—the Black Widow program. Steve had never heard of it before, but from the file Colonel Phillips had given him, he gathered that it was a fairly underground operation, using something called the Red Room to train some of the most ruthless and skilled assassins Steve had ever heard of. They had heard from sources in the area that Hydra was possibly involved. Steve and his Howling Commandos had been sent to see if the Hydra rumors were true and to gather as much information as they could on the Black Widow program._

_“All right,” Steve looked at each of his Commandos in turn. “Shall we?”_

_Steve divided them into teams, each team able to cover an exit. Steve waited with Bucky, about 100 yards from the main entrance. Bucky had his sniper rifle ready, aimed on the single guard waiting by the door. Steve waited to give orders. He had noticed that the encampment, though well lit by tall lamps, it was fairly empty. There was no distant sound of chatter, no sound of engines revving. Almost nobody to be seen. The guard waiting outside the door was the first person had seen so far. Part of him wanted to wait, to see what they were truly up against. But he had orders of his own. He was supposed to infiltrate the base as soon as possible, and that meant tonight._

_Steve looked over at Bucky and gave him a single nod, which was followed by the crack of Bucky’s rifle. The guard dropped to the ground like a stone. Steve waited a moment, listening for the sound of oncoming enemies, but nothing came. He spoke into his com, ordering the other Commandos to enter the building. He and Bucky followed, taking quick, light steps over the terrain, covering each other’s backs as they ducked into the building._

_Inside it was just as quiet._

_“This all seem a little…._ off _to you?” Bucky whispered._

_“More than a little,” Steve responded._

_They turned a corner and spotted another guard. He barely had time to raise his gun before Steve’s shield was across the length of the hall, knocking the guard unconscious with a blow to the head. Steve grabbed his shield and they continued to make their way through the building. For a compound that supposedly housed some of the greatest assassins of the twentieth century, Steve was starting to feel slightly underwhelmed. Neither of the men they’d come across had put up much of a fight._

_“Dugan, Falsworth, have either of your teams found anything?” Steve asked through his walkie-talkie._

_“Nothing here, Cap,” Falsworth replied._

_“Quiet as a church mouse,” Dugan agreed._

_Steve didn’t respond and clipped his walkie back onto his belt. He and Bucky entered a large room. There were punching bags lined up in a neat row along one of the rafters. Lines of tape formed a large square in the center of the room, like a boxing ring, except there were no mats of any kind. There was other training equipment stacked along the opposite wall, and on the back wall, there was a single steel door that looked like it led down another hallway, towards the center of the building. Whatever kind of training facility this was, it was cold. All stone and hard places, full of sharp corners and even sharper instruments._

_Steve frowned at the …_ inhumanness _of it all. With what were clearly old blood stains on the floor, it seemed more like a slaughterhouse. Only those who were strong enough, fast enough, and cold enough would survive to see the light of another day._

_“Let’s go check down that hall,” Bucky suggested._

_They headed to the back, easing the ajar door all the way open. Steve held his shield up, feeling Bucky right behind him. It was silent except for the whirring of machinery farther down the hall. They passed a firing range on the left and an ammunitions and weapons storage room on the right. The hall ended in a door on the left. Entering the room, Steve saw it was a small control room. There was a few panels on the wall, a desk of buttons and levers, and empty chairs at the different stations. To the right there was staircase that led down into the lower level. From what he remembered of the building blueprints, Steve guessed that staircase was the upstairs entrance into the boiler room. The whirring was louder here, a dull roar that traveled up the stairs and filled the room. Steve took a look at the control panels while Bucky wandered over to the right to take a quick look downstairs._

_“Hey, Steve,” Bucky’s voice called out a minute later. “You better come take a look at this.”_

_Steve headed down to Bucky who was standing by the base of the stairs, near one of the furnaces. Steve was about to ask Bucky what he’d found when he saw the problem for himself. He felt his heart sink at the sight of the mess of wires and metal, all strapped together to create a crude bomb. A bomb with only five minutes left on the timer. The pieces clicked together in Steve’s head. Most likely the Black Widow group had been tipped off that they were coming and they abandoned ship. They left a few meaningless pawns in place to be taken out by him and his Commandos. To top it off they’d placed the bomb to get rid of any and all intel they had. And if he and his comrades were in the building when it went off, even better._

_“We better go warn the others._ Now, _” Steve said._

_“You got that right,” Bucky muttered._

_“Go out the back door for the boiler room, get the others,” Steve told his friend. “I’ll make sure there’s no one else upstairs.”_

_“Be careful,” Bucky warned._

_Steve grinned, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. “Always.”_

_Bucky rolled his eyes. “Really? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it’s situations like these where I always end up having to pull your ass out of the fire.”_

_“Go get the others,” Steve urged. “Quickly.”_

_Bucky took off in the other direction, further into the ground floor, while Steve headed back up, taking the stairs two at a time. He was just about to step into the training room they’d been in earlier when somebody landed a solid, two-footed kick to his chest. He was knocked back, taken by surprise. He recovered quickly, though, getting back on his feet fast enough to see the assailant swing effortlessly down from one of the rafters._

_When the person stood, Steve froze. It was a woman. She looked at him, her green eyes twinkling with something akin to amusement as she took in his surprised face. Steve stared at her. He tried not to—his mother had taught him it was impolite to stare at a lady—but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. She was beautiful. Her shoulder length red hair was loosely curled around her face, bright like flames against the stark grayness of the room. She was dressed down in fitted black pants tucked into black combat boots, topped off with a plain black tee. She stood poised, ready to strike again. The bomb’s timer flashed in the back of his mind. He guessed he had four minutes left now._

_“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Captain?” she smirked at him._

_Steve wished he could have been surprised that she recognized him, but he really wasn’t. At this point he was a national icon. Even if people didn’t recognize his face, they knew the red, white, and blue of his shield, his uniform. In this situation, though, Steve was at a disadvantage. She knew exactly who he was and he didn’t even know her name._

_Steve took a step forward and she took one step back, though he doubted it was because she was scared of him lashing out at her. His assumption proved correct when she lunged again, getting low and bringing his feet out from underneath him. Angry at himself for letting her catch him off guard again, he leaped to his feet, throwing a punch in her direction. She deflected and tried to throw a punch of her own, which he blocked with his shield. He used his free hand to grab her arm and twisted, flipping her onto her back._

            _She recovered quickly, springing herself up, swinging a leg up around his shoulders and using her weight to bring him to the ground. She squeezed his throat with her thighs, blocking his arm with her hands as he tried to get her off of him. She looked down on him, her green eyes showing no sign of mercy and she squeezed her legs tighter, making him incapable of filling his lungs with air. He was running out of oxygen—and time. He was sure there had to only be a minute or two left till that bomb went off, and this close to the boiler room, he had no doubt he would go up in flames._

_He managed to bring a leg up, kneeing her hard in the back, pitching her forward. She released him, tumbling into a somersault over him. She was just about to get to her feet and attack him again, but he beat her to it. Steve slammed a fist into her stomach, hard enough to make her double over, a breath escaping her mouth with a strangled gasp. Steve acted quickly, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her, lowering her down to the floor, onto her stomach, before she had time to lash out again._

_“Look,” Steve hissed in her ear. “I don’t want to kill you, but if you don’t stop fighting me, we’re both going to die.”_

_“Well, maybe I’ll become famous, then, for taking Captain America to the grave with me,” she hissed._

_She squirmed in his grasp, nearly breaking free, but Steve pressed his weight harder against her, eliciting a small cry of pain. Steve grimaced. He really_ didn’t _want to hurt her, but she wasn’t giving him much of a choice. He pulled a pair of bonds out from his belt and secured them around her wrists._

_“Look, there’s a bomb that’s about to blow any second.” He hauled her to her feet. “I’m just trying to get us both out alive. Because I don’t believe you truly want to die.”_

_He looked at her, and despite her still trying to fight against him even with her hands bound behind her back, he thought he saw something flash in her eyes when he mentioned the bomb. Worry, maybe? Suspicion? Fear? He couldn’t be sure, because it disappeared quickly._

_She glared at him, green eyes burning. “If I didn’t really want to die, why would I be in a building that’s about to explode?”_

_Steve didn’t have an answer for that. She was just being defensive, he assumed. He clasped his hand around her arm, towing her along as he headed for the exit. She tried to break free from his grip and he tightened his hold on her. He had a feeling she could just use another one of her acrobatic moves to get out of his grasp and break free from her cuffs, but she clearly wasn’t trying very hard. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to solve the puzzle of the bomb._

_“Let go,” she said through gritted teeth. “_ Before _I change my mind about gutting you, Captain.”_

_“Not a chance,”_

_Steve had just gotten them through the doorway of the training room when the explosion hit. They both fell forward, Steve catching himself at the last minute so as not to crush her. Heat scorched his back and debris rained down on them. That’s when he remembered the munitions room and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before another explosion blasted through the building._

_He grabbed the woman’s arm, getting her to her feet and running with her down the hallway. They’d made it about halfway when the second explosion hit. Steve shoved her against the wall, bringing them low to the ground and raising his shield up, protecting them from the wave of fire that engulfed half the hallway. When the flames had died down enough, Steve led her back the way he and Bucky had first come in._

_Steve guided them around fallen rafters and twisted beams of metal. Ash rained down on them and Steve coughed, trying not to inhale any more smoke into his lungs than he had to. When they got to the door, it was half-melted into the frame, the metal still glowing orange from the heat. He let go of the woman’s arm long enough to slam his shield into the door frame, hearing the metal groan under the weight of the blow. It took a few more tries, but it finally gave way. He had just grabbed onto the woman’s arm again when he felt different hands against the front of his uniform, dragging him out and away from the immediate area of the burning building._

_“See?” Bucky scolded him, taking his hands off Steve’s uniform. “Told you I’d have to pull your ass out of the fire.”_

_Steve just chuckled and then turned to look at the woman. “You okay?”_

_She rolled her eyes, giving a shake of her head. She muttered something in Russian and Steve was a little surprised, as well as impressed. Her English had been perfect when they’d spoken earlier. She was clearly one of the assassins in the Black Widow program and he figured they must have educated them as well as trained their bodies to become weapons._

_“I’m fine,” she finally said._

_“Who’s this?” Bucky asked, seemingly noticing the woman for the first time. His eyes lingered on her, eyebrow raised as he looked her up and down._

_“I don’t know actually,” Steve replied. “I was too busy trying to keep her from killing me to ask for her name.”_

_“She tried to kill you?” Bucky asked, stepping forward an inch._

_“Tougher than she looks,” Steve commented, looking back at her. She gave him a look of irritation. “Who are you, anyway?”_

_She stared at him, like she wasn’t sure if she should answer or not. Steve watched her exhale slowly, meeting his eyes. “Name’s Natalia,” she said._

_“Natalia,” Steve repeated._

_“She coming with us?” Bucky interjected._

_“Yes.” Steve looked at Natalia, knowing the Colonel would want someone to question since any other physical evidence had been destroyed._

_As they were walking back to the trucks where the rest of the Commandos were waiting, Steve stuck close to Natalia, Bucky on her other side, one hand on his gun. Though she didn’t look happy about coming with them, she didn’t fight it either. He knew she could, too. He doubted it would take much for her to get out of her cuffs and escape, taking a couple of them out along the way. Part of him wondered why she didn’t do just that._

_They got back up to the trucks and before they got in, Steve pulled his brown leather jacket out of one of the trucks, bringing it across her shoulders. It wasn’t nearly as warm as it would have been if she could put it all the way on, but he didn’t dare let her out of her cuffs. She stiffened when the heavy material first touched her body, but then relaxed, and accepted the gesture in silence._

_“Thank you,” she said quietly after a long moment of silence. She looked almost uncomfortable as she said the words, as if they were foreign to her. He wondered what the last time was that she had something to be thankful for._

_“You’re welcome.” He nodded._

_She didn’t say anything else, and Steve decided it was best to let her be. She was technically their prisoner. But considering she didn’t try to escape, he figured they weren’t off to a bad start._


	2. Interrogation Skills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it continues...
> 
> Enjoy!

_Hydra base in Strasburg, France; 1946_

            Natasha opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light as she did so. She sat up quickly, the fire, the fight, her capture, all of it coming back to her in a rush. She stood up from the cot she had been laying on, which turned out to be a bad idea. Her vision went black for a moment and she stumbled back, sitting heavily back down on the cot. She gave a small gasp, bowing her head until her vision cleared. Natasha lifted a hand slowly, touching her temple where the man with the metal arm had struck her. She winced, the spot tender and sticky with mostly dry blood.

            She stood up, slower this time, and looked around the room. It was small, with plain white walls, with a similarly plain door, and nothing in it but the cot she had been lying on. She checked her pockets, the back of her boots, for any of her hidden weapons. Not surprisingly, they’d been thorough. She’d have to improvise, because there was no way in _hell_ she was staying here. Just as Natasha was about to take a step towards the door it opened and a man stepped inside. There were two guys backing him and two more by the door. Natasha’s heart dropped a little. She’d taken on more guys than this at once, but with the way they were positioned, the second she went after the guys in the front, the two by the door would open fire on her. And their guns weren’t exactly small. Force wouldn’t get her out of here. At least not at the moment. She’d have to outsmart them first, before she could fight her way out.

            Natasha straightened her back and held her chin high, meeting the lead man’s eyes steadily. He was a fairly average looking man, not quite six foot, with brown hair, and an angular face. The formal suit he was wearing was perfectly pressed, a silver Hydra pin glowing dimly on his lapel. He had the posture of a military man. His hands were folded in front of him and with his arms against his abdomen, she could see a bulge in his jacket which undoubtedly was a gun. One corner of his thin mouth turned up at her, a hint of smug arrogance glinting in his blue eyes.

            “Ms. Romanoff,” he addressed her, German accent thick. “I am Anselm Ruppert.”

            She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ll have to excuse me, I usually don’t bother to learn the names of Hydra scum. Am I supposed to be impressed?”

            He chuckled, but she could see offense had been taken. _Good,_ she thought.

            “No, you probably would not know who I am,” Ruppert said, and she could tell he was a little bitter about the fact. “But perhaps you recognize the name General Werner Reinhardt?”

            Natasha felt her heart crawl into her throat, and she forced herself to swallow it down, to keep her face passive. Reinhardt, one of Red Skull’s top Hydra leaders, who continued his quest to find obscure and powerful artifacts for Hydra even after Johann Schmidt and died in the plane Steve had gone down in. Peggy and the Howling Commandos had captured Reinhardt in ’45, not long after Red Skull had died, right before Natasha had helped Peggy and Howard Stark form SHIELD. Natasha had only seen Reinhardt in passing when he’d been taken into custody, but she remembered him clearly—his pale, angular face, white-blonde hair, and those wire rim glasses that almost made him more intimidating. It was clear, from those split-second moments that she’d seen Reinhardt that he was a man who had done horrible things and didn’t regret them at all.

            The fact that this man in front of her was taking Reinhardt’s place meant that, even after its supposed fall, Hydra was doing just fine. Blooming, it seemed. Natasha felt white-hot fury blaze in the pit of her stomach. Red blurred her vision. She wanted each of them dead. She could do it. She could take them all out. She would kill all of them. Steve was gone because of Hydra and here they were, growing, thriving, a parasite with the world for its host.

            “We have a few questions for you, Ms. Romanoff,” Ruppert gestured for one of his guys to come forward. The hydra goon came up behind her and yanked her arms back. A second later she felt the cold metal of handcuffs against her wrists. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm. Shure, she could take these five guys out, but what about the rest of them? She had no idea where she was or how many Hydra agents were outside this stone cell. And that man with the metal arm could be one of them. She was wounded, not at full strength, and she couldn’t beat that man before. She definitely wouldn’t be able to beat him now.

            She grudgingly let them lead her out of the small room. She started counting her steps down the hallway, noting when they turned. The place was huge. She nearly lost count of how far they’d gone. She caught glimpses of lab-like rooms, storage rooms full of crates, weapons rooms, all of them just snapshots at the pace they were moving. Finally they reached a steel door and they moved her roughly inside.

            It was clearly an interrogation room, with a steel table in the middle of the room and matching chairs on either side. It had the cliché single bare bulb hanging over the table and she scoffed. Ruppert chose to ignore her and guided her over to the chair facing the door. He shoved her down into the seat. Natasha slouched back in her seat, looking as at ease as she possibly could, watching Ruppert as he sat down in the chair opposite to her. He folded his hands on the table in front of him, trying to put on a smile, but it turned into a half grimace. To anyone, he looked calm enough, but Natasha could feel his impatience charging the air.

            “Ms. Romanoff, I will begin by saying that this will be much less painful for the both of us if you cooperate.” Ruppert smiled with his lips pressed together.

            “And if I don’t?” Natasha challenged.

            Ruppert tilted his head like he’d been expecting this response. He gestured to one of his men posted at the door. That man disappeared out the door. Ruppert was watching Natasha as she watched the door. She kept her relaxed posture, not giving away any indication of the bad feeling that was snaking its way through her insides. A few minutes later the man came back, and for the second that she thought he was alone, Natasha relaxed. That is, until she heard another set of boots approaching.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as the man with the metal arm came into the room. He was wearing black leather and his mask over his mouth, though no goggles covered his blue eyes.  He had a gun strapped to his back and she was sure there were various other instruments of destruction tucked inside his belt. He looked over at her, eyes cold, murderous even. She wondered if he even had another expression. The man walked almost soundlessly over to the corner, where he stood, silently, watching her.

Natasha swallowed and looked back at Ruppert, hating the gleeful glint in his eyes.

“Now,” the Hydra agent addressed her. “Are you ready to cooperate?”

-:-

_SSR Base; December, 1943_

_“Colonel Phillips,” Steve called out, saluting as he stopped the Colonel outside the interrogation room. “Has she said anything yet?”_

_“Not a word,” the Colonel replied. “Whatever this Black Widow program was, they sure as hell knew what they were doing.”_

_Steve glanced through the dirty window on the door, seeing Natalia Romanova sitting there, staring at the opposite wall, features completely passive, just like every other time he’d walked by and observed her through the window. She’d been here for three weeks and she hadn’t uttered a word. Christmas had come and gone, and New Year’s was nearly upon them, and the Colonel was losing his patience very quickly._

_“Maybe if I could talk to her—?” Steve tried to offer._

_“No way in hell, Rogers,” Phillips cut him off._

_“Then at least let me sit-in on the interrogation. She might be more willing to talk that way,” Steve argued._

_Colonel Phillips pondered that for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. “Fine—”_

_“Thank you, sir,”_

_“I wasn’t done,” Phillips snapped. “You can sit in,_ but, _you are not allowed to speak.”  
            Steve nodded. “Understood, sir.”_

_Phillips raised an eyebrow. “I mean it, Rogers. One word and I’ll knock you out on your ass.”_

_Steve nodded again and followed Phillips into the interrogation room. Natalia looked up at Steve as he sat down next to the Colonel, one corner of her mouth quirking up the tiniest bit._

_“All right,” Phillips said as he sat down. “Brought you a friend. Are you ready to talk now?”_

_Natasha smirked, glancing between Steve and the Colonel. “Possibly.”_

_Steve looked out of the corner of his eye at the Colonel, who looked like he wanted to hit his head against the table. Phillips shook his head and met Natalia’s eyes. Steve could already imagine the scolding he was going to get after they were done. Something along the lines of ‘_ I spent hours, weeks, in there with her and got nothing! You come in and she finally decides she’s not mute anymore? I don’t get paid enough for this crap’.

_“Okay, then,” Phillips said, pulling a small notepad and pen out of his pocket. “Let’s start with your name, then.”_

_“What? Your super-soldier didn’t put that in his report?” she said, raising an eyebrow._

_“Just answer the question,” Phillips told her._

_She flicked her gaze over to Steve and he gave her an encouraging nod. She exhaled slowly, then met Colonel Phillip’s eyes._

_“Natalia Alianovna Romanova,” she replied._

_“When were you born?” Phillips questioned as he wrote down her name._

_“November 22 nd, 1918 in Stalingrad, Russia.”_

_“Parents?”_

_Natalia paused and Steve saw her jaw clench. “Dead,” She finally responded._

_Phillips looked up at her and Steve thought the Colonel’s expression softened a little bit. He didn’t bother writing that down in his notes._

_“Can you tell me what happened when Captain Rogers found you?” the Colonel moved on._

_With a quick glance at Steve, she started to recount the events at the base, matching what Steve had put in his report, only from her point of view._

_“Just to clarify,” Phillips said, waving his pen around. “You_ didn’t _know about the bomb planted at your super-secret training facility?”_

_“No,” Natalia confirmed. “I did not. Otherwise I would not have been there when it went off.”_

_“Any idea why they tried to blow you up? I thought you worked for this, uh, this Black Widow program?”_

_“I do,” she insisted. “I_ did, _at least. My guess? Clean slate.”_

_“Meaning?”_

_“Exactly what you think it means. Wipe the program. They no doubt killed the other participants, burned all the files.”_

_Colonel Phillips nodded, jotting down a few more notes. “So, why didn’t they take you with them? Kill you with the others?”_

_Natalia gave the Colonel a dry smile, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “Colonel, I’m not someone you can just force into a back room and empty a bullet into my skull. I’m the person they ask to do the executions. Hence, why they left me on the base, hoping the bomb would take me out.”_

_“And you didn’t think to go look around the base? It’s not exactly like they hid the thing,” Colonel Phillips remarked._

_Natalia exhaled. “I was given orders to stay at my post. Think whatever you want of me, Colonel, but even trained assassins follow their superior’s orders. Maybe I should have trusted my instincts, but I trusted the program. I trusted my orders. Won’t be making_ that _mistake again.”_

_Phillips grunted and tapped his pen against his paper. “And those superiors you mentioned, where are they now? What about the program?”_

_“Oh, they’re deep underground by now,” Natalia told him. “There’s no chance they’ll be resurfacing anytime soon. And when they do, I can assure you there’s no way they’ll work with Hydra. Just like they weren’t working with Hydra now. That’s your concern, isn’t it? Whether or not Hydra had the best assassins in the world working for them?”_

_The Colonel nodded. “You or your program weren’t associated with Hydra in any way?”_

_“No,” Natalia reiterated. “Never. In case you hadn’t noticed, the Black Widow program is_ Russian. _Hydra is_ German. _And last I checked, Russia wasn’t best friends with any of the Axis Powers. Plus, the Black Widow program is exactly the kind of group Johann Schmidt would want to eliminate. We’d be a threat to him and Hydra. We have the power to challenge him because of our skills, and as far as I know, he’s all too keen on being the special one. The_ only _special one.”_

_She looked at Steve as she said this and he couldn’t help but thinking of Schmidt, not too long ago when he’d gone to rescue Bucky and the rest of the 107 th, when Schmidt had revealed what the premature serum had done to him. Red Skull could not have been a more befitting name. _

_“Thank you, Ms. Romanova. I think that’s all we needed,” the Colonel said, standing up from his chair._

_“A thank you? That’s all I get?” Natalia looked offended._

_“We’ll let you know what our decision is regarding your release shortly,” the Colonel told her. “Till then, sit tight.”_

_As the Colonel headed for the door, Steve cast her and apologetic look and then hurried to catch up with the Colonel._

_“Sir, wait!” Steve called._

_“What now, Rogers? I let you sit in on the interrogation. I got what I needed. That’s it.”_

_Steve shifted on his feet. “Well, what are you going to do with her?”_

_“Probably send her back to Russia, son.” Phillips said._

_“You can’t do that,” Steve protested._

_“Well last I checked, boy, I pull rank. You may be_ Captain America, _but that doesn’t mean you can be giving me orders. I can do whatever I damn well please with her, this is_ my _base.”_

_“If she goes back there, her superiors are going to hunt her down and kill her.” Steve argued._

_“That’s not my problem, Rogers.” Phillips said. “Once she’s back on their soil, she’s not our responsibility anymore.”_

_“Well, what if there was another solution?” Steve asked before he could really think about what he was saying._

_“Yeah, and what would that be?” Phillips raised an eyebrow._

_Steve swallowed. “We could recruit her.”_

_Colonel Phillips blinked, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, son, I must’ve had something in my ear. What the hell did you say?”_

_“Sir, I think we should take her on,” Steve repeated._

_“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” Phillips muttered. “The answer is no. In fact, make that a_ hell _no.”_

_“But sir—”_

_“Rogers, do I have to repeat myself? The answer is no! She tried to kill you! She is an assassin who we know nothing about, and the second you turn around she’ll stab you in the back. No way I’m risking that.”_

_“But—” Steve tried to protest one last time._

_“No more ‘but’s, Rogers!” the Colonel snapped. “We’re done here. You bring this up to me again and I’ll have you shipped out of here so fast…”_

_Steve nodded before Colonel Phillips could finish his threat. “Understood, sir. My apologies, sir.”_

_“Damn right,” the Colonel muttered before walking away._

_Steve gave him a few seconds and made sure the coast was clear before he opened the door and slipped back into the interrogation room. Natalia raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, but she didn’t say anything. Steve sat down, knowing that what he was doing could get him in serious trouble. He could feel a twinge of doubt worm its way through his stomach. He pushed it away. After all, it wasn’t the first time that he’d blatantly ignored direct orders._

_“Here to offer me a deal, Captain?” Natalia broke the silence finally._

_“Sort of.” He tilted his head. “I’m here to get you to switch sides.”_

_Natalia barked out a short chuckle. She shook her head and gave him a look that he could’ve swore was damn near close to pity. “You really don’t know a damn thing me. What is it about_ assassin _that seems to have escaped your understanding? I kill for a living. I have no motive other than the fact that I am ordered to do so. Sometimes quite painfully. Sometimes I torture them first. I’m not a team player, Captain, and you certainly don’t want me on_ your _team.”_

_“I believe everyone is worthy of second chances,” Steve argued._

_Her green eyes studied him for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I’ve used up all my chances, Captain.”_

_“Not with me, you haven’t.” he shook his head. “You easily could have killed me at the base. I wasn’t fighting for the kill, but you were. So, my only question is, why didn’t you?”_

_“You got the upper hand,” she replied flatly._

_“I don’t believe that. And even if I did, you had plenty of chances to escape. At the base, on the way here. Even now, I doubt handcuffs and locked doors are a challenge for you, so you’ve had_ weeks _to escape. Why haven’t you?”_

 _She was silent for a long time. Then, in a cool voice, “I’m not joining your band of—what are they?_ Howling Commandos, _is it? Like I said—not a team player. I have no loyalty or to your United States—”_

_“Oh, but you’re loyal to Russia and the people who tortured and manipulated you and turned you into a killer?” Steve challenged._

_Natalia’s face turned into a stone mask, her gaze hard and icy, and Steve could see the beast within her. She kept it well under control, years of training at work, but he knew, without a doubt, that she could kill him right here and now._

_“Don’t presume to know anything about me or my past, Captain,” she said, voice low and sharp and dead-serious. A warning. Possibly a threat. “We’re done here. I bid you farewell, Captain, seeing as they’ll ship me off soon enough here.”_

_Steve stood, his metal chair scraping across the stone floor harshly, making the quiet seem all that more deafening. He walked to the door and laid his hand on the knob._

_“Do you really want to run for the rest of our life?” he asked her, angling just enough so he could look at her._

_“I’ve done it before,” she said coolly, her tone conveying that she was simply being polite, but not cooperative. “I’ll do it again.”_

_-:-_

_Over the next few days, Steve continued to sneak into the room they were keeping Natalia in. well, they called it a room, but Steve knew that it was her temporary cell until they shipped her out and back to Russia. All of his persuasive efforts, though, were met with snide remarks. That or she just plain ignored him until he left. Finally, New Year’s Eve, two days before she was to be shipped out, Steve thought of something that was his last chance to save her._

_When Steve entered her room, she sat up on her hard cot, watching as he sat down in the chair opposite of her._

_“You just don’t give up, do you?” Natalia wore an amused smile._

_“Nope. Not really my style,” he responded._

_“You know, this persuasion thing hasn’t really been working for you so far,” Natalia pointed out. “What makes you think today is going to be any different? You gonna sing me a song? The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, perhaps? Gonna wave an American flag in my face? Well, whatever it is you plan on saying, it’s not going to work.”_

_Steve shrugged. “Maybe not. But I figured you’d at least be interested in hearing what I have to say if it saves your life.”_

_She was silent for a moment, and he could tell he had piqued her interest. “You really think I’m in so much danger in going back to Russia that I need saving?”_

_“I think you can take care of yourself just fine,” Steve disagreed. “But I also think that if you really wanted to go back, you would have gotten out of here already.”_

_Natalia exhaled through her nose, a flash of irritation crossing her features. “What do you want from me? I doubt you act this way towards all the people that have tried to kill you.”_

_“You’re right,” he said quietly. “But I meant it when I said that everyone deserves a second chance. I’m giving you that second chance.”_

_“Yeah, and what exactly would that be?”_

_“I saved your life. You owe me a debt. I’m giving you a chance to repay it.”_

_She gave a short laugh. “A life debt? Who’s to say I even believe in those?”_

_“I think you do,” he said. “Which is why you haven’t tried to escape. Look, I get it. You don’t give a damn about me or the U.S. or whatever. But if you were to save the life of_ Captain America _…you wouldn’t have to run. You could go anywhere. All I’m asking is that you stick around long enough to fulfill that debt, and then you’re free to go.”_

_Natalia looked down at her hands, as if she could see something on them that he couldn’t. “And what if I were to say no?”_

_Steve tilted his head. “Then there’s not really much I can do about that.”_

_“And if I said yes?”_

_“It’s your choice,” he replied. “I’m not asking you to like me or anyone else here. All I’m asking is that you let me give you your second chance.”_

_She was quiet for a long time. She remained still, unmoving, the anticipation making the air thick and heavy. Finally, she sighed and looked back up at him._

_“The second my debt is repaid to you, I’m gone,” she said firmly._

_“Understood.” Steve nodded. “I’ll go let the Colonel know.”_

_“You didn’t tell him?” she gave him a look and he shrugged innocently._

_“No point in telling him before you’d agreed to anything.”_

_She just shook her head as he walked out the door._

_-:-_

_It took a nearly hour long argument to get the Colonel to agree to his plan._

_“A life debt,” Phillips mumbled angrily as he stalked around his office. “Unbelievable.”_

_“Sir, I know it’s risky but it didn’t feel right letting her go, knowing she’d be killed,” Steve said._

_The Colonel looked at him incredulously. “She’s an_ assassin, _Rogers! She’s killed plenty of people, including U.S. citizens! Or have you already forgotten all the reports I showed you?”_

_“I remember them very clearly, sir, but she was forced into doing those things.”_

_“I don’t recall any of the reports saying that she had a gun held to her head, making her shoot her target or else,” Phillips countered._

_Steve’s face fell. “That’s a fair point, sir.”_

_“Damn right, it is,” the Colonel agreed. “I can’t agree to this, Rogers, I’m sorry.”_

_“But, sir—”_

_“Dammit, Rogers—”_

_“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”_

_Steve turned to see Natalia standing in the doorway. The two guards that were escorting her turned and took up posts right outside the door. Phillips turned and gave Steve a dirty look, before looking at the red-head._

_“I’m sorry, Ms. Romanova, I don’t think this deal—_ unauthorized _deal—” he gave Steve another look. “is going to work out.”_

_Natalia gave the Colonel a polite smile. “And I understand that completely. You have no reason to trust me. I sure as hell wouldn’t trust me if I were in your shoes. It’s a dumb idea.”_

_“Thank you. I couldn’t agree more,” Colonel Phillips said a little smugly before Steve could even open his mouth to protest._

_Natalia turned her gaze briefly onto Steve. “But, the Captain here is right.”_

_“Come again?” Phillips asked._

_“A life debt is not something I take lightly. I owe him,” Natalia said in resignation. “I’ll cooperate until my debt is cleared, and then I will be out of your hair for good.”_

_Phillips looked like he was going to pop a vein. He looked between Natalia and Steve, his jaw twitching. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh and turned to Steve. “You better be right about her,” he muttered. “She can join the Commandos. Show her around, and don’t take your eyes off her. I have some paperwork I’ll need her to fill out, and more tomorrow as well.”_

_“Yes, sir.” Steve nodded._

_“Don’t make me regret this, Rogers.”_

_“No, sir.”_

_Colonel Phillips dismissed Steve, and he waited outside the Colonel’s office for Natalia to finish up the initial paperwork. It was an hour later when she came out._

_“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she told him._

_“Except I did. Colonel told me to keep an eye on you,” he responded._

_“Right,” she muttered. “Time for the grand tour?”_

_“Guess so. Ready to meet the rest of my Howling Commandos, Natalia?”_

_“Sure,” she agreed mildly. “But it’s not Natalia anymore.”_

_He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”_

_“Hey, if I’m gonna be out in the open, fighting with you, I need to take some precautions. I don’t want my name floating around if Russia starts looking for me. So, a little name change was in order.”_

_Steve watched her for a moment. He figured, as a spy and an assassin she was used to changing her identity. He couldn’t see himself as being anyone other than ‘Steve Rogers’, but she wasn’t him. Even if Russia and the U.S. were allies, it didn’t mean they were best friends. What tied the two countries together was their mutual hate for Adolf Hitler. And this act, joining his Howling Commandos, even temporarily, could be seen as her turning her back on her mother-country, trading it for another. Just another reason for Russia to seek her out and kill her. So, she was shedding one of the most identifiable things tying her to Russia: her name._

_“So what should I call you now, then?” he asked politely._

_She met his eyes. “Natasha. Natasha Romanoff.”_


	3. Frozen In Time

_Hydra base in Strasbourg, France; 1946_

Natasha didn’t know how many times Ruppert repeated the same questions to her. He asked her about the Tesseract, about Red Skull. He asked her about Steve. The second his name was mentioned, her rage came back and she was certain, for a moment, she could’ve taken each and every single one of them on, even the metal-armed man. After a while, when she refused to speak—because she’d already given her answers—Ruppert resorted to other methods.

Natasha was no stranger to torture. Many of the methods used during her Red Room training could have been classified as torture. That training had hardened her, turned her into stone when sharp instruments and fists were taken to her skin. Hydra indeed made her bleed, all while the man with the metal arm stood and watched, silent, unmoving. When they finally decided that she wasn’t going to give them anything, Ruppert back-handed her with a look of disgust on her face, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

“I told them she wasn’t going to break,” he spat as he turned away. “Take her to her cell.”

When they arrived back at her cell, the goons escorting her dropped her unceremoniously onto the hard floor. She watched as they slammed the door behind them, and she heard the sound of metal against metal as a bolt slid into place, locking her in. She spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor, splattering the off-white tile with scarlet. As she staggered over to the cot, her injuries—both old and new—stung. She figured it didn’t matter much. They were probably going to kill her now, anyway, seeing as she hadn’t given them any of the answers they’d wanted.

She ran through various escape plans in her head, counted how many steps from her cell to various room she’d seen, over and over again. She just had to stay calm, regain her strength, and get the hell out of there. She was Natasha Romanoff, after all. She was the Black Widow. She’d been through worse than this, and a few scrapes and a guy with a metal arm were _not_ going to stop her from getting out of there.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself as she fell into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

-:-

Natasha had been lying awake for an hour or so when she heard the bolt on the door. She stood quickly, ready for anything. Ruppert stepped through the door, with two more guards than he’d had yesterday. Had it been yesterday? She had no clue how much time had passed since she’d last seen the vile Hydra agent, or even how many days it had been since the metal-armed man had captured her.

“I’m not going to answer any of your questions,” she said bluntly.

Ruppert sneered at her. “Oh, I know that. I’m not here to ask you anymore questions.”

“Dare I ask what you _are_ here for, then?”

“No need,” he replied. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Ruppert nodded and three of his guys surrounded her, grabbing her arms roughly and they dragged her out the door. They walked quickly through the twisting hallways, her brain racing to come up with a plan with each step they took. She didn’t have any weapons of her own, but considering how heavily armed her guards were, it wouldn’t be any trouble to get one of their guns. If only she had a distraction—

“In here,” Ruppert interrupted her thoughts, leading them into one of the labs they’d walked by yesterday. It was brightly lit, for the most part. One of the lights was flickering, scattering fractured light over the back of the room. The floor was made of the same off-white tile that was in her cell. There were several steel operating tables off to one side, rows of cabinets full of medical supplies on the opposite wall. Along the far back wall, there were a couple of metal pods, large enough to hold people, and what looked like a dentist’s chair, but it was hooked up to some type of machine. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she had a bad feeling about it.

As they passed one of the operating tables, Natasha spotted a tray with several medical instruments on it, and she managed to swipe a scalpel, concealing it beneath the sleeve of her jacket. They were in the middle of the room, but she could still easily get to the door. There were the three guards escorting her, plus Ruppert. There was an office in the far right corner, and through its large glass window, she counted four doctors inside, though they were all older, and didn’t look like they would be much trouble. Well, it was now or never.

Natasha raised her arm and struck out with the scalpel, stabbing the guy to her immediate right. She hit the carotid artery in his neck, blood spurting out against her hand and face as he fell to the ground, scarlet coating his lips and burbling out of his mouth. Ruppert turned incredibly fast, but she was ready. She kicked out at him before he could draw his gun, and he crashed into one of the operating tables, falling head over heels.

The other two Hydra guards came at her. She threw the scalpel and watched, satisfied, as it sunk into the leg of the far one. He fell to one knee with a scream. The other Hydra guard raised his gun and she ducked just as he fired. When she rose, she grabbed his arm and pushed him back against the cabinets. Supplies were knocked out of the shelves, a couple glass bottles of morphine crashing to the floor, shattering against the tile. The guard struck out with his fist, connecting with her jaw. She recovered quickly, and Natasha slammed his arm against the cabinet, knocking his gun loose. She brought her knee up to his groan and before he could sink to the floor, she grabbed him and swung him around, using him as a human shield just as the other guard, still with the scalpel in his leg, open fired at her. His comrade fell, and with the gun she had knocked loose, she mercilessly shot him in between the eyes.

Grabbing another gun from one of the fallen, she ran for the door. Just as she was about to touch the handle, it swung open and the man with the metal arm came through. Before she could even react he struck her, and she fell to the ground, head spinning. Since she’d dropped one gun, she went for the other she’d tucked away. She fired at him, but he had already moved, knocking the gun out of her hand. His metal arm moved towards her and he grabbed her throat, lifting her off the ground. He squeezed and black spots started to form before her eyes. Natasha gasped, pulling at the metal gripping her neck.

“Stop!” Ruppert’s voice suddenly sounded. “Put her down. We need her _alive._ ”

The metal-armed man stopped squeezing, and a second later, he dropped her. Natasha coughed, blinking until her vision cleared. Ruppert came over and yanked her up by her hair. To put it mildly, he looked pissed. He probably would have shot her himself if he hadn’t just said that they wanted her alive.

“Doctor’s!” he shouted, and they came scrambling out from the back room. Natasha saw their eyes flicker over the destruction, the scattered supplies, the bodies of the three guards, the blood coating the floor.

“I want a chamber prepped for cryo. Now!” Ruppert ordered.

“B-but, sir, we haven’t run any tests on her,” one doctor said. “We don’t even know if she can survive it—”

“I don’t give a damn about your tests, doctor!” Ruppert burst. “Prep the chamber _now._ ”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor complied shakily. “Should we wipe her first, sir?”

“No,” Ruppert said through gritted teeth. “I want her memory intact when we wake her up.”

Natasha had no clue what they were talking about, but the fight drained from her body. Hydra reinforcements gathered in the room behind the metal-armed man, and she knew there was no way she was getting out this time. Two guards came forward, taking her from Ruppert’s grasp. They led her over to one of the pod-like chambers in the back as the doctor who’d spoken opened it up and started hitting buttons on the side of it. They took off her jacket and shirt, leaving her very exposed in just her bra. She was wrestled into the pod, and one of the other doctor’s strapped her in and poked and prodded her for what felt like hours.

Ruppert stood by and watched with cold satisfaction. She watched him turn to one of the other doctor’s casting a quick glance over his shoulder to the man with the metal arm. “I want him wiped and prepped as well. They’re both going in.”

“Yes, sir.” The doctor nodded.

The doctor led the soldier towards the dentist-like chair contraption. The metal-armed man had just started to take off his jacket and was about to pull off his mask when the chamber closed around her. Natasha struggled, trying to see out the small circular window on the pod. The sound of machinery whirred around her. She pulled at her bonds, squirmed in her tight confinement, feeling every last ounce of hope drain away. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe, but the panic stayed, pressing against her ribcage. She closed her eyes. She could see Steve. Feel his lips against hers right before he boarded Red Skull’s plane, right before he died. The panic and fear expanded inside her and her eyes snapped open long enough to see ice form over the small window. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was the cold seeping so deep down into her bones she felt like she would never get warm again.


	4. Escape

Natasha woke with a gasp.

            One second she was under, deep under, a force like the ocean pushing and pulling her down, crushing her under its weight. Then the next, she jolted awake, breaking the surface of the water. She sucked in several mouthfuls of precious oxygen, feeling her lungs expand and compress with each breath she took. Memories flashed behind her lids, a jumble of words and images that made her dizzy. _She was crying, tears blurring her visons, tears for the man in red, white, and blue. A funeral, kept small, but she knew people everywhere were wearing black for the fallen hero. An emblem of an eagle, for Steve, to protect the people he had died protecting. The shattering of glass and the crackle of fire and her screams of defiance as the man with the metal arm took her away. They brought her God knows where; it was dark and cold and reminded her of the way she felt after Steve died. They tested her, questioned her, but she did not break, so they froze her._

Natasha let out a strangled cry. Her mind felt like it was splitting in half. Memories continued to rush forward. She tried to block the onslaught of emotions and images that were barraging against the walls of her skull. She went to reach up and clutch her head, only to find that she couldn’t move. She looked down to see that leather cuffs bound her wrists and ankles, strapping her down to a metal operating table. She strained against the material, hearing the thick cuffs stretch, but they didn’t come off. Not that she really expected them to.

            Natasha wiggled her wrists, trying to get some leeway so she could at least get one of her hands out. While she did this, she looked around the room she was in. It was small, probably no more than fifteen feet across and ten feet wide. The walls were made of heavy gray bricks, with a single, heavy steel door set into the gray wall in front of her. She didn’t see any cameras in the room itself, but she would bet money that they had at least one installed outside the door. Last she remembered, she’d been wearing nothing more than her bra and pants, but they’d put her in a t-shirt and her leather jacket was sitting on a small table next to her, along with a glass of stale looking water.

            She took a deep breath and looked down at her right hand, which she was trying to release from its bond. She squeezed her hand together, making it as small as she possibly could. He tugged and pulled while simultaneously wiggling her hand bit by bit, watching the leather of the cuff crawl slowly up her skin. It took several more minutes and she glanced at the door often, expecting someone to come in any minute and sedate her, put her back under and tie her down so it would be impossible for her to escape. But it was quiet, eerily so. The only sounds were her own labored breathing and the pounding of her heart.

            Finally, with a small gasp of victory, Natasha’s hand popped free of its bond. She immediately rushed to undo the clasp on her left hand, freeing that wrist too. She made quick work of the straps around her ankles and then she slid quietly off the cold table and slipped on her jacket. Her combat boots were soundless on the stone floor as she crept over to the door. The door had a small, dirty window on it and she looked through it. She saw a hallway stretching out to the left, a dead-end to the right. There wasn’t a security camera that she could see, but there were two guards posted outside her door. Though they were fairly heavily armed, with large assault rifles held across their chests, they both looked bored, half-asleep. They probably weren’t expecting her to wake up any time soon, much less get out of her bonds. Natasha almost laughed at how easy it was going to be to take them out.

            When she reached out to quietly test the doorknob, she found it locked, as to be expected. Natasha exhaled slowly, pushing her hair back away from her face. She looked back at the cuffs that had strapped her down just moments before. Even if she could get the metal tip from the buckle out, there was no way it would fit in the tiny lock. She had nothing on her to pick the lock, either. That meant Plan B. taking a deep breath, Natasha reached out and knocked on the door. She moved quickly, pressing back against the wall, hearing the guards outside react. Seconds later, one of the guards slowly started to open the door, gun held up. Before he could get any further, Natasha struck down on his arm, catching him by surprise. She twisted the gun out of his grasp and then swept his feet out from underneath him. As he went down, she smashed his head against the wall, knocking him out cold. By the time the other guy realized what was happening and moved for his rifle, Natasha had already fired two rounds into the second man’s chest before he had time to put his finger on the trigger.

She fired two more rounds into the unconscious guy’s chest for good measure. Natasha grabbed another of their pistols and a tactical knife and tucked them into the back of her pants. She held the other pistol aloft, listening to see if anyone else was coming her way. When she was sure she couldn’t hear the sound of an army’s worth of footsteps pounding her way, she moved forward down the hallway. She moved quietly through the halls, letting her instincts guide her. She came across a few more people who, too surprised to do much other than stare at her, were easily put down.

She was grateful for being so unchallenged, but it almost made her more uneasy than if the place had been crawling with Hydra members. She’d had tons of security on her before they froze her, so what happened between then and now? Even as she thought that, Natasha wondered exactly when _now_ was. Had she been frozen for a few hours? Days? Weeks? Her heart plummeted to think it had been years, but the only way she would be able to tell was when she got the hell out of there.

Natasha rounded a corner and found all those Hydra agents she’d been thinking about a moment earlier. She counted six. Five of them rushed at her at once. As she dodged their blows and dealt ones of her own, she saw the other agent head over to the far wall and pull a red lever. Alarms started blaring, red lights flashing haphazardly in front of her vision. She fired into a Hydra agent and swung up on another’s shoulders, squeezing her thighs together to bring him down. A minute or two later and the five dead bodies that surrounded her. She turned and looked at the last man.

He lifted up a walkie-talkie, talking quickly into it. “Call in the asset, _now_! She’s awake! I repeat, she’s aw—”

Natasha didn’t allow him to finish before emptying a bullet into his head. Stepping over his body, she headed the way she’d seen the agents coming from, hoping that wherever that was, there was an exit. She came up on a steel door, and peering through its window, saw a series of metal stairs and catwalks surrounding a large floor area, filled with crates, weapons, vehicles, and other machinery. People were running around, moving things, and coming from the far right corner, she saw a hoard of at least a dozen Hydra agents, all heading her way.

Deciding she had no better route, she pushed open the steel door and headed quickly down the first set of metal stairs. She counted the seconds in her head. _One, two, three, four…_ She made it all the way to seventeen before she heard voices shouting and she looked down to see several of them pointing at her. Cursing under her breath, she started heading across one of the catwalks, pushing a worker off, barely hearing his screams as he fell and crashed down onto a huge pile of crates. 

Just as she leaped down onto another set of stairs—all that much closer to freedom—she was knocked down. She saw the glint of silver out of the corner of her eye and dread filled her stomach. She didn’t even have to look up to know who the asset was that they had called in. He struck down with his metal fist, and he probably would have crushed her skull if she hadn’t moved. Natasha rolled, grabbing onto the edge of the stairs and swung herself down onto the catwalk below her. She felt the catwalk tremble as he followed. She jumped off that last catwalk and landed on the top of a large crate. She ran, bullets scorching the wood beside her feet as she ran. Just as she was about to leap off the grate and onto solid ground, a bullet clipped her arm, and she gasped, stumbling. She picked herself up, not daring to look back.

She jumped down, landing in a somersault, ignoring the sudden pain in her right arm. Ducking amongst the crates, she spotted the Hydra agents arranging themselves in a loose circle around her, but they weren’t attacking. She figured the man with the metal arm didn’t want them getting in his way. As Natasha skirted around a large truck, bullets ricocheted off the metal body, right next to her head. She found cover, but when she looked to see where the metal-armed man had shot from, she couldn’t find him. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was _so close._ She could feel it. But the only way to freedom was getting past this guy, and several times now he’d stopped her from doing so.

She listened for the sound of footsteps, but, aside for the blaring of the alarms, she heard nothing. Moving her position just a couple of inches, Natasha was able to look around the other side of the truck. There, on the wall opposite to her, was a door. Some of the weight lifted off her shoulders. She had a goal now, she knew where she was going. First, though, she needed to figure out where the asset was. It was risky to just run out in plain view, especially when he could, quite possibly, be up on the catwalks—a perfect position to gun her down from. But, she supposed, it was better than sitting here waiting for him to sneak up on her and executing her from behind.

Taking a deep breath, clutching her gun in her hand, Natasha darted out from behind the truck and ran. She weaved in between the crates, keeping her eyes on the door. Yet, nobody fired on her. It was too easy. But the door was _right there_ and Natasha could practically smell the fresh air.

Then, out of her peripheral, she saw him. Just a flash of silver and she was throwing her arms up to block his fist as he attempted to rain it down on her, and she lost her gun in the progress. He wore no goggles again, but his mask was still there, and she grabbed for it, but he caught her wrist. He twisted and she was flipped over onto her back. She rolled and came up behind him, kicking out at the backs of his knees. He stumbled and she kicked him down, grabbed him in a choke-hold. He struggled for a minute before gaining some strength and throwing her off him. Recovering, Natasha leapt to her feet and exchanged blows with him, parrying his fists as much as he was with her blows. Then, with some stroke of luck on her part, he overreached and she ducked under his blow, grabbing his arm and throwing him to the ground. He was just getting back to his feet, twisting out of her grasp, when she yanked off his mask.

Natasha’s heart plummeted to the floor and she stumbled backwards. He must’ve seen the shock on her face because he paused in attacking her. With the mask gone, she could see who clearly was beneath it, but her brain refused to process what she was seeing. Her heart, clenching in her chest, was telling her the truth of the situation, that it was _really him,_ but it _didn’t make sense._ She’d _been there._ She had watched Steve reach out, hand so close to that of his best friends. She had heard the metal creak and snap. She had watched him fall, watched him _die._ And yet, here he was, standing here in front of her. It was the same man, but a completely different man altogether. Natasha backed up, not wanting him to get any closer.

“ _Bucky,_ ” she breathed.

His brow wrinkled in confusion, but it quickly faded, and he moved towards her again. There was no recognition whatsoever in his eyes.

“Bucky?” she tried again. “James? Come on, it’s me. It’s Natasha.”

There was a slight pause, and then he spoke, his voice familiar but completely different at the same time. “I don’t know you.”

Natasha could barely think; all she knew was that she had to get out of there. She pushed one of the crates closest to her, startling him just long enough to run the last hundred feet to the door. She burst through into a moderately sized warehouse yard. It was less busy than inside the warehouse, with just a few trucks going here and there, people too preoccupied with moving supplies to put all their attention into stopping her. She sucked in the fresh air. Focusing on breathing helped…kind of. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t dare look back.

She pushed her legs as fast as they would go, her lungs burning in her chest. Alarms screamed behind her and the gates started closing. A few guards were trying to rally in front of the gates, but she barreled through them before they could even flick the safety off their guns. She squeezed through the gate right before it closed and made a sharp turn into an alley. She made several more sharp turns, trying to get herself lost so there was no way they could find her.

Natasha finally decided it was safe to head out onto a main street. She slowed her pace to a walk, trying to blend in with the people walking alongside her. She felt better now that she was out of that place, but she wasn’t safe yet. And as she walked, eyes flickering over her surroundings, her hopes were only dashed further. With the bustling of traffic and the sight of a—mostly—familiar skyline, she figured out she was in New York. So they transported her to the U.S. after freezing her. But that wasn’t what bothered her. The buildings were different, the cars were longer and thinner, the clothes people wore were different. Natasha walked a few more blocks, the uneasy feeling growing in her stomach the further away she got.

She spotted a newspaper stand and stopped, ignoring the weird looks she got. She was bloody, beat-up, probably looked more than a little out of her mind. Overall, she was sure she looked horrible, but at the moment she didn’t care. She looked at the top of the paper, eyes searching out the date. Just when she thought she couldn’t lose any more hope, she just about broke down right then and there. _May 27 th, 1968. _Her head was swimming and nothing was making sense. Except, it all made perfect sense. They’d frozen her. _For twenty-two years._

-:-

            _SSR Base; December, 1943_

_During dinner Bucky cornered Steve._

_Bucky was still getting used to looking up at his best friend versus down. Though he was shorter than Steve now, Steve still managed to look tiny as Bucky gave him a look._

_“You_ recruited _her?” he whisper-shouted, glancing over Steve’s shoulder to see Natalia—or, rather, it was_ Natasha _now—sitting at a table with Peggy Carter. The two women were conversing politely, but almost everyone else in the dining hall was giving Natasha wary looks. Rumors had flown fast around base that she was an assassin with dozens, probably hundreds, of kills under her belt. With her loose, bright red hair she stood out like a flame in the dimness of the mess hall._

_Bucky looked back at Steve who was gaping like a fish. Bucky nearly laughed. His best friend may have grown almost a foot and gained a shit-ton of muscle, but he was still that awkward little kid Bucky had befriended on the playground when they were kids. And for all the clever one-liners Steve made, he was terrible under pressure._

_“Well?” Bucky prodded._

_“I didn’t technically_ recruit _her. It’s more like she’ll be part of the team till she repays her debt,” Steve replied lamely._

_“A debt, Steve? That’s what you got her on? Seriously? She tried to kill you!”_

_“Yeah, and, well, now she owes me,” Steve argued. “She’ll be fine. She agreed willingly. Mostly willingly, anyway.”_

_“You ever stop to think why that is?”_

_Steve shrugged, a look of uncertainty crossing his features. “It was her best bet, I guess.”_

_“You don’t know anything about her, Steve. How do you know she won’t just end up stabbing you in the back?” Bucky asked, his worry—the worry he’d held since childhood—creeping into his voice, which he tried so hard to keep under control._

_“She won’t,” Steve promised gently._

_Bucky sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle. “I could throttle you, you know that?”_

_Steve grinned and Bucky felt some of his worry melt away._

_“You wouldn’t know what to do without me,” Steve quipped._

_Bucky rolled his eyes as they headed back to the table Natasha and Peggy were at, but Bucky knew it was true. Bucky didn’t have many friends, but Steve had always been there by his side. Steve sat down next to Natasha, on the opposite side of Bucky._

_Before he sat down on the bench next to Peggy, Bucky held out a hand to Natasha. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he said with half a smile as Natasha reached out to shake his hand, green eyes meeting his. “I’m Sergeant James Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky.”_

_“Natasha,” she replied, watching his every move as he sat down and got comfortable on the bench._

_“I heard,” he replied. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you the last few hours, actually.”_

_Natasha’s face went from polite openness to cold and shut down in half a second. Her green eyes watched him dangerously and she sat up straighter, her body becoming taut, like a wire. Bucky flicked his gaze over to Steve, who gave him a warning look. Peggy shifted beside him, clearing her throat softly. The lighthearted air around the table had disappeared, but Bucky didn’t care. Natasha’s pretty face made her look harmless enough, but that didn’t mean Bucky gave her one inch of trust, especially around Steve._

_Natasha leaned forward, gaze boring his. “Tell me, Sergeant Barnes, what have you heard about me?”_

_“Enough,” Bucky replied, not letting her faze him. “You’re an assassin. You’ve killed people. Tell me, is that, like, a dozen kills? Two dozen perhaps? Or are we talking more triple digits?”_

_“Bucky,” Steve hissed softly._

_“It’s fine,” Natasha said, one corner of her mouth quirking up the tiniest bit, though the rest of her features remained unchanged. “Let me ask you, though, Sergeant...how many people have_ you _killed? Hmm? Tell me, what makes you so much different than me?”_

 _“I am_ completely _different than you,” Bucky said calmly. “I don’t go around killing people for no reason.”_

_“The people giving me orders had plenty of reason for having me cross them off. Did I always know that reason? No. But I was following orders. Just like you are.”_

_Bucky clenched his jaw, unsure of how to respond. Natasha seemed to notice that she had him and sat back in her seat. Steve and Peggy had been quiet for the rest of the exchange. Bucky risked a look over at Steve who gave the tiniest shake of his head. Bucky knew his best friend was disappointed, angry, even, at his behavior. And maybe he_ had _been a little out of line, but it didn’t mean he felt bad about it._

_Peggy cleared her throat and stood suddenly. “I’m going to excuse myself. Natasha, I will make sure to get you somewhere to sleep. I’ll come get you when everything’s ready.”_

_“Thank you, Agent Carter,” Natasha replied politely, never taking her eyes off Bucky._

_Peggy left, and a moment later, Steve stood. Bucky did the same, followed by Natasha. The three of them walked in a deafening silence. When Bucky looked over, Natasha seemed at ease, despite the tense air between them. Steve, though, was pointedly not looking at either of them, his back stiff as he took the lead through base. They had almost gotten to their quarters when Colonel Phillips stopped Steve._

_“Rogers, a word, please,” the Colonel asked, ducking back into his office._

_“Yes, sir,” Steve mumbled. He then turned to look between the two of them. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on Bucky a moment longer and Bucky got the message: don’t do anything stupid till I get back. Bucky nodded, but the second Steve disappeared inside the Colonel’s office, Bucky turned on Natasha._

_“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky hissed, pulling her towards the corner of the hallway so they had more privacy._

_“Standing,” she replied bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest._

_“I mean what the hell are you doing_ here _?” he edited. “One minute you’re trying to_ kill _Steve and the next you’re best buddies? Agreeing to team up with him? Why?”_

_“I owe him. I’m just sticking around long enough to pay my debt to him, and then I’m gone.”_

_“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Bucky snapped._

_“It’s the truth,” she ground out._

_“Right,” he scoffed. “This is coming right from the goodness of your cold, dead heart. Don’t even try to lie. This is about your own damn self-preservation!”_

_“Yes!” she shouted softly, an angry fire burning in her green eyes. Despite being quite shorter than him, she was intimidating, standing just as firmly as he was. “You’re right. If I go back to Russia now, they’ll find out I’m alive and eventually they will hunt me down and kill me. Sue me for wanting to not run the rest of my life. Doesn’t mean I was lying when I said I wasn’t going to hurt Rogers.”_

_“Why should I believe you?” Bucky snapped at her._

_“You shouldn’t. No one here should. Trusting me in the first place is stupid. But if I make a promise, I keep it. You have my word that I will not hurt Steve Rogers.” She paused. “Your precious Captain America.”_

_Bucky kept her gaze, feeling his own anger bubble up inside of him. “You better mean that, or—”_

_“Or_ what _? You’ll_ kill _me?” she was smiling, looking almost like she was trying to stifle a laugh. Apparently his threats were simply amusing to her. “I said I wouldn’t hurt Rogers. I never said anything about not hurting you.”_

_“You wouldn’t dare.”_

_“Oh, wouldn’t I?” she lifted one delicate eyebrow. “How do you know? The point is:_ you don’t know. _You don’t know a damned thing about me, Sergeant. Just because you hear a little gossip while standing around the urinals does not make it true. So don’t you_ dare _presume to think that you know_ anything _about me.”_

_“Natasha?” Peggy came up just then, before Bucky could even think of a good response._

_“Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes,” Natasha dipped her head politely, but her face held no warmth._

_Then she was next to Peggy and the two of them were walking away down the hall, disappearing around a corner just as Steve came out._

_“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he approached. “Where’s Natasha?”_

_“Peggy came and got her,” Bucky replied flatly._

_“Okay,” Steve said slowly. “Well, are you all right?”_

_“I’m fine. I just….I’m sorry about the way I acted,” he muttered._

_Steve sighed and nodded in understanding, giving Bucky a quick clap on the shoulder.  “Look, Buck, I know it’s a risk, bringing her on. But I didn’t think she deserved to get killed for following orders. I think I can trust her for the time that she’s here. I know you don’t, but at least if you don’t trust her, please trust me.”_

_Bucky nearly laughed at how quickly Steve could melt his resolve with just a few words. Bucky shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, I trust you, punk. I still don’t trust_ her, _but I’ll at least try to be…_ polite, _okay?”_

_Steve laughed. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”_

_“Damn right,” Bucky grinned._

_Bucky figured it wouldn’t do any good to crush Steve’s hope in Natasha by telling him that she wasn’t in it so much because she wanted to switch sides, but more so to save her own skin. So he followed Steve back to their quarters and, as he settled in for the night, tried not to think about the fiery red-head coming in here in the middle of the night and gutting his best friend._


	5. Night In New York

_New York City; May 27 th, 1968_

            Natasha should have felt bad for snagging a couple of guys’ wallets, but she needed a place to crash for the night, and a bench in Central Park wasn’t exactly the safest place, especially if she was on the run from Hydra. _Hydra…_ She took a shaky breath as she let herself into the motel room. The lights flickered briefly when she turned them on, before settling on casting a dull yellow glow over the single room. It smelled like stale cigarettes and mold. The bedspread didn’t match the walls. Natasha figured she’d been in worse places.

            She kicked off her boots and socks, then stripped of her jacket and headed into the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked in the mirror, now knowing why she’d gotten so many weird looks on the street. And then again when she’d asked for the room, paying in advance with the cash she’d stolen. The owner had looked at her warily, with maybe even a hint of fear, but he’d handed her the key and even some extra towels.

            Just as she was about to start examining all of her various wounds, there was a knock on the room’s door. He senses turned back on high alert. She made her way silently over to the door. She figured Hydra wouldn’t knock—they would just break the door down—but she was cautious nonetheless. She inched the door open just a crack, shielding most of her body behind it even after seeing that it was just the motel owner. The old man looked at her shyly—and still a little warily—and held one hand up in surrender.

            “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I mean you no harm. I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, and it’s none of my business, but I can at least offer some help. I brought you some first aid supplies, some soap, and some clean clothes. They’re probably too big, but it’s all I could find.”

            Natasha reached out carefully and took the first aid kit and the clothes. She probably shouldn’t have accepted his aid. If Hydra came after her, the first thing they would do is target the people she’d encountered, and torture them for information, but she was too desperate and tired to care. She would be gone by morning, anyway.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            “I, uh, also brought you some food,” he said as he reached down next to him to pick up a paper bag and reach it out to her. “Thought you might be hungry.”

            Natasha gave him a smile. “Thank you, really. I just….thank you.”

            He nodded, giving her a small smile back. “No need to thank me. You be careful, all right?”

            Natasha nodded and watched him head down the hall. She ducked back into her room, clutching the supplies to her chest as she quietly shut the door. She set the clothes, which consisted of a fresh shirt, socks, and a pair of blue pants that were a different material than she was used to. She brushed her fingers over the stitching on the back pockets, which formed a sort of V-shape, remembering that it wasn’t 1946 anymore. She set the bag of food down and grabbed the soap, heading back into the bathroom.

She stripped down, looking over every inch of herself. There were cuts all over her face, dried blood crusted over all of the old ones. Her hair was matted and stringy from going so long without washing it. The bullet graze on her right arm hurt like a bitch. It wasn’t too deep, but wide enough that she would need to patch it up after she showered. She had bruises everywhere, spotting her skin with blue and black. Due to the serum injected in her when she was doing her Red Room training she healed quicker, though not as quickly as Steve did. As Steve _had._ She had to remind herself that Steve was gone, he was _dead._

But apparently Bucky wasn’t.

            He flashed behind her eyes and Natasha suddenly couldn’t breathe. _Bucky was alive._ He was _alive._ Somehow… _somehow_ he had survived the fall off the train. Hydra had gotten to him and they brainwashed him, gave him a new arm, and molded him into nothing but a weapon. When his mask had fallen off, some semblance of humanness had returned to his eyes, but still, he’d looked right at her, she’d said his name, and he had had no clue as to who she was. He had tried to _kill_ her. The same Bucky who had fallen in love with her, fallen like he’d fallen for Steve. Fallen in love with her just like Steve had.

            She was breathing hard now, sinking to the floor, curling her naked body in on itself, as if she could shield herself from the truth. Natasha couldn’t even pretend that what she had seen wasn’t true, though. The proof was on her body itself, written in the bullet graze on her arm that was still oozing blood slowly. She held her head in between her bloody, dirty hands, forcing herself to take deep breaths despite the situation at hand. She wasn’t going to get anything done in this state.

            Shoving to her feet, Natasha turned on the shower and hopped in before even bothering to wait for the water to heat up. Even the cold water felt good, once she got over the initial frigidness of it. As she rinsed her body of all the sweat and dirt and blood that covered it, the water still icy, she thought back to her Red Room days, the first week to be specific. She had been a child then, scared, with a fire burning inside her that she did not yet know how to wield. Memories flashed in her head during that first week when, in the middle of the night, her trainers had grabbed her from her bed, bound her hands behind her back, and brought her to a room that only held a giant tub of ice water.

            Not knowing then _how_ to fight back—only knowing she _had_ to fight, to survive—she struggled while they dunked her repeatedly. Each time they pulled her up, icy water ran down the front of her shirt, soaking her torso. The few seconds of air she got, she gasped for breath, sucking as much oxygen into her lungs before they sent her back under. It went on for a long time. The people putting her under were told to stop and she remembered one of the head trainers leaning down to whisper in her ear, _“I’m disappointed in you, Natalia. Disappoint me again and next time I won’t tell them to stop”._ They’d left her there, on the soaked floor, shivering, forcing her to make her way back through the dark to her bed. She hadn’t cried. Only vowed to herself that, next time, _she_ would be the one to put a stop to it. And she did.

            Only now she was faced with something she wasn’t sure she _could_ stop. At least not alone. Natasha tried to push thoughts like that out of her head as the water finally warmed up. She used the soap the motel owner had given her and scrubbed herself clean. She had to admit that the shower felt good, that she felt better. She stood under the stream, enjoying the feeling of cleanliness, until the water started to turn cold again. Once out of the shower, she patched herself up with the first aid kit. It was now a lot easier to see what actually needed bandaging after washing all the excess blood off her body. She ate the food the man had given her—a turkey sandwich and an apple. Then she curled up under the covers, naked, saving the clean clothes for tomorrow when she woke.

            Natasha thought it would take forever to fall asleep. There was a constant stream of images flowing through her mind—images of Bucky, with that mask torn off; of Steve, and everything about him; of buckets of ice water in dark rooms while men yelled in Russian. She closed her eyes and saw blood, so much blood. She heard voices, indistinct, screaming at her. And yet, when she finally did drift off into sleep, not a dream disturbed her.


	6. Howard Stark

_New York City; May 28 th, 1968_

Natasha woke early the next morning and cleared out of the motel room, leaving the key to the room on the front desk while the manager was in the restroom. The morning was fairly cool, the sun only just peeking over the horizon, yet the city was already bustling. After having a couple hours of fairly decent sleep, Natasha felt slightly more relaxed than she had yesterday. Everything was slowly sinking in, and though she was still uneasy about it all, she was letting her instincts take over. She had been on the run before. She was trained, skilled, and anything Hydra threw at her she could take on. After all, she was the one to have made it through all the training, _she_ was the Black Widow.

She decided the first thing she needed was to know what had happened. From the couple times she’d been to New York City on missions for the Black Widow program, she’d mostly learned her way around the city. At least enough to know where the major buildings were, and she was confident as she headed in the direction of the New York Public Library. As she walked, she stayed alert, scanning the faces as the crowds rolled past her in waves.

She couldn’t help but think about Steve. This city was his home. Steve had promised her one that, when the war was over, he would take her to New York. He promised to show her around Brooklyn and all his favorite places. _“There’s this neat little candy shop just a few blocks from where I live…they’ve got all the goodies.”_ Natasha wasn’t much of a tourist, but she knew that with Steve showing her around, she would have loved it. Had he gotten the chance to make good on his promise, he probably would’ve taken her to Central Park, and when he held her hand, she would act annoyed, but would secretly love it. He would’ve packed them a picnic, and as she lay on her back, staring up at the blue sky, he would have pulled out his sketchbook and drawn her. Those were all just fantasies now, though, because she was here and he wasn’t.

When she stepped into the library—a huge marble edifice with its matching marble lions sitting out front—she immediately sought out where all the exits were and came up with several different escape plans in her head in case Hydra found her. Natasha made her way to the back, where the newspapers were archived. She scanned the bound volumes of old papers and found one on the 40s. Her heart jumped nervously. Steeling herself, she found a corner cubicle to sit in, right by a door that she could exit through if need be. Natasha started flipping through the yellowed pages, moving up through the 40s. There was a lot on the war, which she expected. The war hadn’t ended that long ago, less than a year—except….that was wrong. The war had ended nearly 23 years ago. Her fingers started to tremble as she froze right in the middle of turning the page.

Natasha took a few breaths, exhaling slowly to calm herself down. Looking around, she was glad there was no one else in the room, which wasn’t too surprising. There had been a calendar on the front desk when she’d come in, and she’d seen that it was a Tuesday. Most people at this hour were at work, not at the library looking at old newspapers. Natasha flipped past a few more pages before she stopped.

She thought her hands had been shaking before, but really, it had been nothing. Her fingers grazed over the faded, yellowed picture of Steve, donning his Captain America uniform. She felt tears stinging in her eyes, her heart crawling up into her throat. _‘Captain America Dies Defeating Hydra’_ the headline said. She didn’t need to read the article because she knew what had happened. She had _been_ there. The stitches she’d sewn herself up with back in 1945 opened up, and it took all of her strength to hold herself together. Tears fell from her eyes, splashing onto the old newspaper pages. She quickly wiped at them with her sleeve.

She laughed humorlessly suddenly. _God,_ she thought. _What was wrong with her_? She was falling apart at the seams. She held her head in her hands, running her hands through her hair roughly. She could hear Steve’s voice in her head and she tried to shut it out, holding her hands over her ears as if that would shut the noise out. She’d only allowed herself to cry about his death right after it happened, and since then, she’d locked every emotion up inside of her, caging it in. That cage shook inside her now, her emotions slipping through the bars like smoke through a vent.

Her resolve broke and she had to put a hand to her mouth to choke back the sob that was so desperately trying to escape past her lips. Steve was dead and she was alone with Hydra on her tail. Hydra, who they thought they had put an end to back in the 40s. Peggy and the others were probably alive—if they hadn’t been killed by Hydra or some other outside force—but Natasha had no idea where to start looking. Howard and Peggy had started SHIELD in ’46—not too long before Natasha was taken—after they had gone back state-side, while Natasha stayed overseas to finish up the final sweep for Hydra forces. But since then, Howard and Peggy had probably moved from the New York/New Jersey area. They had probably started lives’.

Natasha wondered what they thought, when she disappeared? Did they suspect Hydra? Did they hear of the wreckage and think her dead instead of kidnapped? Natasha wiped at the tears on her cheeks, and sucked in a deep breath, knowing the only way she would get the start of some answers was if she kept looking. She flipped to the news from ’46, but found nothing on herself. She figured that Peggy and Howard—assuming they investigated the wreckage of that old Hydra warehouse she’d gone to—had thought her to be dead. And even if they thought she had simply gone missing, with her past—which they knew she kept under wraps—they wouldn’t dare say anything about her possibly being alive, in case others came looking for her and found her before Peggy and Howard did.

She sighed, closing the bound volume quietly. She returned it to its place on the shelf and went back up to the front desk, asking for a phone book and a piece of paper and pen. She sat down at a table and started flipping towards the Cs. Natasha at least hoped Peggy had found someone and gotten married, started a family, which meant she most likely changed her name, but it was worth a shot. Hell, even if she hadn’t changed her name, she might not even be living in New York. After a good half hour of double-checking all the ‘Carter’s living in the area, Natasha decide that either Peggy wasn’t in New York or she’d changed her name.

Natasha sighed in frustration, racking her brain for another solution…until she realized it was right in front of her. She quickly flipped to the S’s, scanning the page for ‘Stark’. Even if Howard wasn’t in New York, he was famous. _Someone_ around here would now how to contact him. But, with a fantastic stroke of luck, there his name was. _Howard Stark._ Natasha couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth. She quickly wrote down his number on the piece of paper she’d been given. She returned the pen and phone book, and quickly made her way outside, scanning the immediate area for anyone suspicious.

Digging in her pockets as she walked, she pulled out what little change she had left and made her way to a payphone a few blocks away. She slipped a dime into the slot and dialed Howard’s number, flicking her eyes up out through the booth every once in a while to check her surroundings. She had seen nobody out of the ordinary, no possible Hydra agents all day, but that didn’t mean there was any way she was going to drop her guard. The other line picked up and started to ring, and she got a nervous flutter in her stomach. What the hell was she going to say to him? If she even got the chance to say _anything._ She’d be lucky if he didn’t hang up on her at the first sound of her voice. And she only had so many dimes to call him back with.

“ _Mr. Stark’s residence, how may I help you?”_ a voice sounded on the other end, startling Natasha out of her thoughts.

“Yes, hi,” Natasha started. “I’m an old friend of Mr. Stark’s, but I haven’t seen him in quite some time. I wasn’t aware that he had moved, but I would really love to speak with him and catch up, if you wouldn’t mind telling me where his current address is?”

There was a pause on the other line, and for a moment Natasha was afraid that this person wouldn’t believe her and she’d be stuck at square one again.

“ _He wants to know why he should trust you?_ ” the man finally said.

“Because Steve Rogers did,” spilled out of her mouth with barely a thought.

There was another moment of quiet, where she could just barely hear words being spoken on the other end of the call. Then, the man came back on and relayed the address to her. She didn’t even have to write it down. She repeated it several times over in her head till it was memorized. She said a quick farewell and then hung up, breathing a sigh of relief that at least _something_ had gone right that day.

Howard currently lived in the top floor of a building he owned that was a couple miles away. It would take her a bit to walk there, but she didn’t have any money for a cab, so walking it was. Natasha kept her pace normal, so as not to draw attention to herself, despite how eager she was to get there. It took her nearly an hour, but finally she reached the building—an impressive brownstone that took up a good portion of the block. She craned her neck up to look up at the top floor, a couple dozen stories above her. Natasha was about to hit the buzzer on the front door, but it swung open to reveal a rather tall man with dark hair that was graying along the sides.

“Edwin Jarvis,” he introduced himself—Natasha taking note of his accent—and gave her a quick once-over. “I’m Mr. Stark’s butler. We spoke on the phone. Please, do come in.”

Natasha couldn’t even get out a ‘hello’ before he was stepping back inside, giving Natasha no option but to follow. She was pretty sure she believed this guy, Jarvis, but for all she knew, this could be nothing but a false address and a trap waiting for her. He led her to the elevator and they rode it up to the top floor in silence, Natasha on edge the entire time. She only settled down when they stepped out and headed into a large office tucked in the back corner of the floor. Bookshelves lined one wall, a huge desk occupied the center of the office, and a couch and several chairs made up the opposite side of the room. Howard had his back to her, instead facing the expanse of bay windows that overlooked the city, but the second she saw him—despite his graying hair and the slight slump to his shoulders that betrayed his age—she knew it was him.

“Sir—” Jarvis started to say.

Howard turned and his jaw dropped and he looked like he had just gotten punched in the stomach. He regained his composure long enough to turn politely to his butler. “Thank you, Jarvis. You can go. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Jarvis nodded and stepped out of the office, closing the double doors quietly. Once they were alone, Howard’s mask fell off and he stared at her, a thousand shades of disbelief coloring his features. Natasha felt herself relax for the first time in days. It was a risk being here, when Hydra could have easily followed her, but in this moment, it was completely worth it. Howard’s face was lined with wrinkles, his signature mustache graying as much as his hair. Despite the age that lined his skin, he hadn’t really changed. The air of confidence still radiated from him, making him seem taller than he was.

Natasha smiled a little, stepping farther into the office. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

            Howard blinked, looking stunned, like he wasn’t entirely sure if she could still speak. Then he snapped out of it and took a few long strides towards her, pulling her to him in a tight hug. She hugged him back, losing herself for a moment in her friend’s grip. She nearly laughed, too, because he even _smelled_ the same after twenty plus years. They pulled apart after a minute, but Howard continued to look her over, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, making his eyes crinkle.

            “I thought it was you, when Jarvis told me what you said on the phone, about Steve,” Howard said, almost breathlessly. “But I wasn’t sure…and now….now you’re _here._ How—how is this possible? I mean, we thought you were _dead,_ or missing, at best, and….”

            Natasha chuckled softly. “Wow, Stark. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before.”

            “That’s funny,” Howard said gruffly. “But I’m serious. What the hell happened to you? I mean, at the very least you should have _some_ gray hair, but you don’t look a day—”

            “Over how I did when you last saw me in 1946,” she finished. “I know. It’s a long story.”

            “Well, my couches are very comfortable, and I have a very well-stocked kitchen,” Howard said, leading her gently over to one of said couches. “My wife, Maria, is out of town visiting family, so you have my undivided attention.”

            Natasha tried not to make a face at the mention of a wife. She was happy for Howard, of course, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. While everyone she knew was building their lives, she’s been frozen alive. She’d never necessarily wanted a family, but it might have been nice to grow old with her friends, to grow as the world grew, instead of being plopped in the middle of it, twenty-two years later.

            Jarvis brought them food, and Natasha practically absorbed it, not even realizing how hungry she was. They talked casually a little more, before Natasha couldn’t put it off any longer. She wrestled with herself, over whether she should tell Howard or not that the people who had taken her were Hydra. She finally decided that it was best. Howard had helped found SHIELD, and, assuming SHIELD was still up and running, they would be the only ones that would be able to stop Hydra. She plunged into what had happened, leaving out anything about the metal-armed man— _Bucky,_ she reminded herself. Howard listened well. His features became more and more troubled the farther into her story she got, but he waited till she was finished.

            When she was done, Natasha watched his face, waiting for him to say something. He was frowning, the action causing deep lines to form around his mouth. Howard ran a hand down the side of his face, giving his head a little shake. Finally, he looked up at her, reaching out to give her hand a quick, comforting squeeze.

            “Are you okay?” was the first thing he asked.

            Natasha didn’t even blink. “I’m fine.”

            Howard looked like he didn’t quite believe her, but he didn’t push. “I just can’t believe it…after all this time, after all that we’d done to stop Hydra, we never actually stopped them at all.”

            Natasha clenched her jaw, digging her nails into her palms. “I know,” she whispered. “He died for nothing.”

            Howard didn’t need her to clarify who the ‘he’ was; he already knew. Howard took her hand in his again, not squeezing it, but rather lending her his warmth, the warmth of another human.

            “Steve did _not_ die for nothing,” Howard said firmly. “He saved the _world._ You and I both know that.”

            “It doesn’t feel like that,” Natasha argued through gritted teeth. “Hydra is _still here._ Steve isn’t. They won.”

            “They didn’t win, Natasha,” Howard countered. “We know where to find the ones who took you. I can call into SHIELD, get them to send a squad in to clear the warehouse.”

            “Yeah, that’s if they haven’t moved by now. And you don’t know if that warehouse is the only one. There could be dozens other. Hydra could have grown back to full strength after all these years.”

            “We don’t know that,” Howard said softly. “I’ll send that squad. And if those aren’t the only people working for Hydra, well, that’s what SHIELD is for—to put a stop to people like Hydra.”

            “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Natasha muttered, looking away from him.

            Howard chuckled. “Never thought I’d hear you say that. Especially not to _me._ ”

            “I can take it back if you want,” she laughed.

            “No, no, that’s all right,” Howard smiled. The smile faltered after a moment, turning into something sadder. “I’m really happy to see you, Natasha. I wish…I wish the circumstances had been better, but it’s good to see you— _alive_ —nonetheless.”

            “It’s good to see you too,” Natasha agreed.

            “Look,” Howard said, spreading his hands wide. “You can stay as long as you like. I have plenty of room, and Jarvis is a lot nicer than he looks.”

            “Thank you,” Natasha told him. “Really. I shouldn’t stay long, though. I’m pretty sure no one followed me, but I don’t know for certain. I don’t want to put you in anymore danger.”

            “And I understand that,” Howard argued. “But you just got here, and to be perfectly honest, you look like crap.”

            “Gee, thanks,”

            “Anyway, just stay a day or two,” he pleaded. “At least long enough so that I can tell you what happens after I call in the raid on that warehouse.”

            Natasha frowned, knowing he was right. “Fine. Two days. Then I’m out of here.”

            “Deal,” Howard smiled, and for a moment, she saw as he was twenty years ago—what felt like just days to her—thick black hair, eyes brighter than they were now, no weary lines drawn across his face. Natasha felt a pang in her heart, but she forced it down, locked it up. She kept her face passive. This was her life now and she had to accept that. As much as she wanted to turn the clock back—for so many reasons—that was impossible. Maybe they could lock her up, freeze her, and she could wind up in the future, but the same couldn’t be said for the reverse. She had to just keep pushing on like she always did. Like she was trained to do.

-:-

            _SSR Base; December, 1943_

_Steve uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again as he leaned against the wall outside of Colonel Phillips’ office. The Colonel had wanted Natasha to finalize the paperwork, among other things, but he made Steve sit outside and wait. Steve thought it would be fine, that it wouldn’t take very long, but she’d already been in there for over an hour. Normally Steve was pretty patient, but apparently he didn’t have it in him today. Peggy had given him some information on a previously unknown Hydra base. It was small and close by—a short mission—but if he didn’t act soon, they could clear out before he even got there. He actually should have left already, but he wanted Natasha to come with. He just wanted Phillips to hurry up already—_

_“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Romanova—er, Romanoff,” Phillips said as his office door opened, and Steve stood at attention._

_Steve waited while Natasha said ‘you’re welcome’ and shook the Colonel’s hand. Then Phillips waved Steve over, and Natasha headed a little ways down the hall, out of earshot._

_“We’re all finished up,” Phillips said. “I still want you to keep an eye on her. I’m clearing her for duty. After this new Hydra base is taken care of, I want a full mission report, as well as a report on her work out in the field. That means down to the nitty-gritty details, Rogers. I’m taking a risk with her, so if she can’t perform properly and appropriately, and prove that she has turned her loyalty over to us for the time being, I want her gone. Am I clear?”_

_“Crystal, sir.” Steve nodded._

_Colonel Phillips frowned, then gave a quick nod of his head. “Good. Dismissed, Rogers.”_

_Steve nodded hastily, then walked quickly back over to Natasha. “How did it go?” he asked, possibly a little too enthusiastically._

_Natasha stared at him for a moment, clearly unimpressed. “Fine. He said I was cleared for duty, and that I was to join you on your next mission.”_

_“Yes,” Steve agreed. “We need to get you geared up then.”_

_Natasha smiled just the tiniest bit. “Got an extra shield for me or something?” she joked._

_“I don’t know about any shields, but I’m sure Howard will have something that you’ll like.” He told her, leading her to a different part of the base, where Howard Stark’s lab was located._

_When they arrived at the lab, Steve directed Natasha over to the tables of weapons laid out, while he called Howard over. As Howard bustled around briefly, struggling to take off his lab coat as he argued with another scientist about something Steve didn’t bother paying attention to, Steve watched Natasha. She was dancing her fingers over the various guns laid out on one of the tables, picking one up every once in a while to test its weight in her hands. There was a glint in her eyes that Steve had not yet seen from her._

_He now understood why many people on base gave her wary looks. Unarmed—though she still was intimidating—she could pass for normal. She could be anyone, anywhere. But with a weapon in her hands it was so much clearer that she, herself, was a weapon. Trained and honed to a point finer than any dagger laid out on one of Howard’s steel tables. Her body moved fluidly, one with the weapon in her hands. Even when she put whichever gun she was holding down, Steve still saw it. There was a certain grace about her, her movements deliberate, quiet. She barely made a sound against the smooth floor. Steve suddenly remembered that she was an assassin. And not just any assassin—she was_ the _assassin. She was the Black Widow._

 _As he thought about this, Steve felt a twinge of uncertainty in his gut. The woman in front of him was a_ killer. _Not in the way he was, in that he killed people, bad people, for a reason. There was no purpose to her killing. She did it because she was ordered to. No questions asked, no doubts in her mind when she pulled the trigger. And yet, though she was virtually unreadable, the walls around her emotions completely solid, unbreakable, there was also some part of him, buried underneath his sudden, nearly overwhelming doubt, that couldn’t help but trust her. Maybe it was a bad idea, but he decided it was time to give her an enemy worth fighting._

_“See anything you like?” Howard asked as he came up beside Steve._

_Natasha turned to him, holding two Walther PPKs. “These will do.”_

_Howard stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “You got it. Natasha, right? I’m—”_

_“Howard Stark,” Natasha finished for him. “I know. I’ve heard of the work you’ve done. Pleasure to meet you.”_

_Now Howard just looked plain dumbfounded, and Steve was feeling kind of the same. “Pleasure’s all mine.”_

_“So, what else have you got?” Natasha asked, turning back to the tables without waiting for Howard to respond._

_Howard looked at Steve, and Steve could only respond with a slight shake of his head and a shrug._

_“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Rogers,” Howard muttered. “Last time a woman picked a gun up off one of my tables, she shot you at point blank, hardly giving you a second to get that damned shield in front of your face.”_

_“Well, Natasha already tried to kill me, so I don’t think she’ll try again,” Steve replied, giving Howard a quick clap on the shoulder before rejoining Natasha._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this story I’m planning for it to be written up through the events of Winter Soldier (and most likely Age of Ultron as well). Anyway, so, because of that, you’re probably thinking “but Natasha knows about Hydra”. Well, (and I hope it’s coming across this way) I’m trying to write it so, yes, Natasha (and SHIELD in the future) know about Hydra, but they do not know the extent to which Hydra has grown, nor do they know that Hydra has embedded itself into SHIELD right from the beginning. So, (when I get to the Winter Soldier parts) it will not be so much a surprise to Natasha and Fury and SHIELD, etc. that Hydra is back, but the surprise will come from realizing that Hydra has been among them the whole time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I totally made up Peggy's husband. We know he's military but that's about it. Anyway, enjoy!

_New York City; May 30 th, 1968_

            Two days after arriving at Howard’s place, Natasha was already setting out to leave again. She had an old leather duffel of Howard’s that had the supplies—food, clothes, medicine and bandages—he had given her all packed in it. Part of her didn’t want to leave, but she also knew it wasn’t safe to stay. She’d stayed long enough to hear the news from the SHIELD squad about how their raid on the warehouse had gone, and now it was time for her to go.

            Natasha had told Howard the directions on how to get to the warehouse, and a rough estimate of how many guys she thought had been there at the time, so he could relay it back to the team, knowing it was best that she—in her current position—stay anonymous. Howard had told her after the mission was done that they _had_ found Hydra members there, though maybe not quite as many as Natasha had suspected to be there in the first place. He said the SHIELD agents also said the compound had been emptier than what she described. Though, from what Howard told her, it didn’t sound like they’d encountered the metal-armed man—which Natasha was grateful for.

            In the end, SHIELD had succeeded in taking down a Hydra cell, but it also sounded like there were more of them. _“We’ll find them, Natasha. They can’t hide forever”_ , Howard had told her. Natasha had accepted his words, knowing, at the moment, there was nothing much she could do about the fact. So, she’d decided on going to find another old friend. 

“And just like you asked for, here is Peggy’s address,” Howard said as he handed her a folded up piece of paper.

            Howard had already told her that Peggy lived in Washington D.C., but she checked the paper anyway, before tucking it into the pocket of her leather jacket. She’d thrown out the oversized clothes the motel manager had given her after Howard had insisted on taking her shopping for clothes that actually fit her. He also insisted on giving her a large sum of money, as well as one of his multiple cars.

She only half-heartedly argued against him giving her money, because, despite how much she hated accepting help from him, she _did_ need the money. The car was a harder thing to accept. He said that he had plenty of other cars he could drive, and that she should have a car to drive down to D.C., anyway, instead of having to take the train. Finally, with enough pleading from Howard’s end, she accepted the car.

Natasha looked up at Howard, attempting to give him a smile. “Thank you, Howard. For everything.”

            “No need to thank me. I’m your friend.” He pulled her into a quick embrace. “You come visit any time, okay?”

            Natasha pulled back and nodded. “I will.”

            “Good,” Howard rumbled. “Now you better get going. You don’t want to hit traffic. And just…be careful, all right? Take care of yourself.”

            She gave his arm a squeeze before stepping into the elevator. “I will. Good-bye, Howard.”

            Then the elevator descended and Howard Stark disappeared from view.

-:-

            Natasha drove the whole four hours from New York City to Washington D.C. without stopping once. She tried to keep her head empty the whole time, pushing out any thoughts about Steve, or Bucky, or even Peggy. She simply focused on Peggy’s address, floating in her mind, right behind her eyelids. Only when Natasha pulled up to the moderately sized brick house did all of her suppressed thoughts come flooding forward. She did the math in her head—Peggy would be 51, with a husband and kids, as Howard had told her. Natasha realized she herself would normally be turning 50 in November. That is, if she hadn’t been frozen and didn’t have the Red Room’s equivalent to Steve’s serum coursing through her veins.

            She finally worked up the strength to step out of the car, her steps slow as she headed for the front door. Seeing Howard was one thing. Sure, she and Stark had been friends, but she and Peggy had been a lot closer. In truth, she thought she would never like Peggy that much when she first met her, but that quickly changed. Not just because back in ’43, when Natasha had first arrived on the SSR base, Peggy had been like Steve—deciding to give her a chance first, before judging her on her past actions—but also because they bonded over both loving Steve. The pain Natasha felt over losing him was something only Peggy understood after it happened.

            Natasha considered turning around, just leaving Peggy at peace, but then she realized she was already on the doorstep. Knowing she was being at least a little ridiculous, she exhaled and knocked on the door. A few seconds later and she could hear footsteps inside the house, coming closer and closer to the door until it swung open. A young man stood there, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. He looked no older than twenty, at most. He regarded Natasha with an open face, just the slightest bit of confusion lining his forehead.

            “Can I help you?” he asked politely.

            “Yes,” Natasha replied. “Is…is Peggy home, by chance?”

            The boy’s face lightened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Mom, there’s someone at the door for you!” he called out into the house.

            Natasha felt her stomach twist nervously. The boy waited by the door until his mother, Peggy, approached. When Peggy saw her, Natasha noticed that she was trying to keep her face straight, to not betray to her boy—her son—what she was really feeling.

            “Thank you, Steven,” Peggy turned briefly to her son, and he walked off. _Steven,_ Natasha thought. She nearly choked. But her reaction was cut off when Peggy turned back to her, and hand covering her mouth, tears shining in her eyes.

            “Natasha,” Peggy whispered. “Oh my god—oh, come in, please.”

            Peggy led her into the house and the door had barely been shut before Peggy was pulling Natasha into her arms. Natasha squeezed Peggy back, the graying hairs on her friend’s head tickling her cheek. Natasha smiled, though Peggy couldn’t see it. They stood like that a moment longer, before Peggy pulled back, holding Natasha’s face in between her hands to look at her better. Peggy was smiling wobbly, her chin trembling just the slightest. Then, she grinned even bigger, a couple tears slipping down her cheeks.

            “We thought you were dead, Natasha,” Peggy said in a hushed voice. “What happened? I mean, how is this _possible_ —”

            Natasha held up a hand to stop her. “It’s a long story. One that I think we both need to sit down for.”

            -:-

            Peggy made them coffee. She offered to make tea, first, but Natasha decided she needed something a little stronger. Well, coffee was about as strong a beverage she could get without making it alcohol. Then Natasha told Peggy what she’d told Howard, once again leaving out the parts about Bucky, but adding in the new parts about finding Howard and the SHIELD raid. As she was finishing up, Peggy gave her knee a comforting squeeze.

            “You have been through so much,” Peggy said softly. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

            Natasha didn’t know what to say to that, so she took a sip of her coffee, dodging the comment. She had done horrible, terrible things in her past career as an assassin, and she figured she probably deserved _worse_ than getting frozen for a couple decades.

            Just then, Peggy’s son came in from another room, and Peggy stopped him. “Steven, could you set the table, please. Your father and sister will be home soon.”

            Her son nodded, heading for the kitchen, leaving Natasha and Peggy alone again. Natasha looked up at Peggy through her lashes, giving her a knowing smile. When Peggy met her gaze, her expression softened, saddening a bit around the edges, and Natasha guessed she hadn’t hid her emotions as well as she thought. She tried to conceal the bittersweet edge to her smile, but clearly it wasn’t working.

            “Steven?” Natasha whispered.

            “Yes,” Peggy nodded, turning her gaze towards her son who was humming off-tune as he set plates out on the table. Natasha noticed he set out an extra one for her. “I’m sorry; I know it must be hard for you—”

            “Don’t be sorry,” Natasha said firmly. “I love it. He seems wonderful. He looks like you.”

            Peggy gave a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “You haven’t seen his father yet. He may have my hair and eyes, but he is completely his father’s son.”

            “Does your daughter take after you, then?” Natasha asked with a smile, Peggy’s obvious happiness and affection for her family contagious.

            “Mm, much more so, yes,” Peggy answered. “Her name is Carolyn. She’s sixteen. Steven is eighteen. He’ll be heading off to college in the fall.”

            “And your husband? I’m guessing it’s not Peggy _Carter_ anymore?”

            “Actually, it’s still Carter,” Peggy said. “Otherwise it would be Anderson. My husband’s name is Richard. I met him not long after you, um, well, disappeared.”

            “I would love to meet him,” Natasha said. “Your daughter, as well.”

            “Well, I know they would love to meet you as well. Will you stay for dinner?”

            Natasha opened her mouth, when the front door burst open, and a man with dark hair, striped with gray, walked in beside a teenage girl with similarly dark hair, the two of them laughing. The girl was wearing what looked to be a softball uniform, the man a business suit. The girl, who Natasha assumed was Carolyn, went over to her brother. The man though—surely Richard Anderson—stopped when he saw Natasha, sitting casually on the couch beside his wife. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, followed by confusion.

            Natasha vaguely recalled seeing his face once, maybe twice, on the SSR base back in the 40s. So he had been a soldier, back when Natasha had first come back on base, looking the exact same as she did now.

            “Richard, this is Natasha,” Peggy said, standing up as her husband came near.

            “Yes,” he said distantly, holding out a hand. Natasha shook it. “I remember you, Natasha. Clearly I’m missing something here, but never mind that. I was just about to get dinner ready. Will you stay?”

            Richard and Peggy both looked at her expectantly, and Natasha couldn’t say no.

            “Of course.”

-:-

            After dinner, when Peggy and Natasha had some time alone again, they talked more. About Steve, about Natasha’s disappearance and assumed death, about Hydra. And when the mood became almost too heavy to bear, they moved on to talking about Peggy’s family. Steven wanted to be a doctor. Carolyn wanted to be a teacher. Peggy’s face lit up as she spoke of her husband and two children, and it made Natasha feel better, made her almost forget the whole situation she was in. Almost made her forget that the last time she had seen Peggy was over twenty years ago, not two days ago.

            Peggy filled her in on some things that had happened over the years. SHIELD had been thriving, for one, getting even better at acquiring intelligence and helping to protect the world form threats that were weirder than normal. The U.S was currently involved in a war in Vietnam. Peggy listed off the presidents. Some guy named Lyndon Johnson was currently president. The one before him, Kennedy, had been assassinated. Shot. Peggy told her that SHIELD had recovered some fuzzy images of the assassin, showing a man clad in black. “He was wearing all black, except for something white…or maybe silver on his arm…We never found him.” Peggy had said, shrugging it off, with a saddened look on her face. To Peggy, it was nothing. The tragic fall of a young president. Killed by someone who they couldn’t find. But Natasha knew. _She knew._ And it took everything in her to keep her composure, to reveal that she knew _exactly_ who had killed him.

            When Peggy invited Natasha to stay for the night, she didn’t refuse. But the minute she was sure Peggy and her family were asleep, she stepped from her makeshift bed. She wrote a quick note to Peggy, saying that she was sorry, but she had to go, and that she wished Peggy all the happiness in the world. Then, silently, Natasha stepped out of their house. She held her breath, for the fear that if she inhaled, breathed in the scent of Peggy’s home, she would stay behind, tuck herself back in, and join them for breakfast the next morning.

            That was the very last thing she would allow herself to do though. She would not put this beautiful life Peggy had built in danger by staying there any longer than necessary. She had told Howard she would see him again, told Peggy that she would stay the night, even though, at the time of both promises, she knew they were ones she could not keep. She would not be visiting either of them. She no longer fit into their worlds and she would not endanger them, would not lead Hydra or anyone else who had it out for her to them. Steve was already gone; she wouldn’t lose anyone else.

            So, she started up the car Howard had given her. She had no clue where she was going. Maybe back to New York. Maybe Chicago. It didn’t matter. She was quick to adjust to any situation around her, and this was no different. Within a month she would have this new life, this new time period, figured out. And no one was looking for a girl they thought was dead, so disappearing would be no problem. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was kind of the unofficial end to part one. For the next foreseeable chapters (which, right now, is 6 chapters) will all be flashbacks of events that happened in the 40s!
> 
> If you happen to binge read this in the next 24 hours or so, I have more chapters but I need to sleep, so more will be up tomorrow!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	8. Mission One Status: Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with this chapter it's just flashbacks to the 40s. I'm not sure how long this will go on yet...Probably a dozen chapters or so, meaning I'm about halfway through them now. Maybe a little less. So lots of flashbacks and lots of italics.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Hydra Base just over German/Poland border; Early January, 1944_

_Steve split the howling Commandos up into groups, sending in a team through every possible exit of the low brick building that was housing weapons about to be shipped off to larger Hydra facilities. Their mission was to find the man in charge here—some guy named Abel—and question him to find out where the weapons shipments were headed. He couldn’t help but think how similar the debriefing was to when, weeks ago now, they had raided the Black Widow facility. The only thing different was the Black Widow herself. As he laid out the plan for everyone, Natasha listened intently, nodding every so often._

_“Good strategy,” she told him later, after the other Commandos had moved into position and he was left with her and Bucky._

_Steve was about to respond when Bucky moved over to his side, giving Natasha a look, mouth turned down. Steve sighed internally, wishing Bucky would make a better effort to conceal his dislike for Natasha. Not that she seemed to mind, or care. He saw her meet Bucky’s distasteful look and then turned away to check her pistols, her features not faltering an inch._

_“You know, you could at least act like you don’t hate her,” Steve muttered once Natasha was out of earshot. “What happened to you trying to be polite?”_

_“Tried it. Didn’t suit me,” Bucky retorted._

_“You’re unbelievable.” Steve rolled his eyes._

_“Hey, I’m not the one who brought an_ assassin _onto the team.”_  
              
            Steve clenched his jaw. Yes, Natasha was an assassin. The best assassin. It didn’t mean she was incapable of change, though. Steve understood why people were wary of her, but the way he saw it, she’d had plenty of chances to kill him or escape and she had done neither. The other Howling Commandos were giving her a chance, Steve just wished Bucky would too.

_“Look,” Steve said, turning back to his best friend. “This is her first mission with us. Let’s see how it goes. Just maybe wait till after to decide how you want to judge her from here on out, okay?”_

_Bucky was silent for a moment, catching on easily to the irritation in Steve’s tone. Finally, Bucky exhaled, then nodded. “Fine. If you agree to be careful with her. I get that you’re choosing to trust her, but don’t extend that trust too far, Steve. People like her don’t just flip sides this easily—even temporarily—so don’t get your hopes up too much.”_

_Steve nodded slowly. “Fine. We ready to go then?”_

_“Yeah,” Bucky agreed._

_“Natasha—” Steve started to say, but when he turned around, she was gone. “Dammit.”_

_“Is it too early to say I told you so?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows._

_Steve didn’t bother to answer him before taking off down the short road to the building, Bucky on his heels. When they entered, Steve barely had time to register the sound of distant gunfire, somewhere else in the facility, when a dozen Hydra agents came at them. Steve threw his shield and it struck one square in the chest, ricocheted, and took another out. He grabbed his shield and went for two more who moved towards him. He heard the chatter of Bucky’s sub-machine gun and the echoing call of bodies dropping heavily to the floor. A few moments later, they were surrounded by a dozen dead or unconscious bodies._

_Wordlessly, Steve started making his way further into the building. Noises resonated from further off in the facility. They encountered a few more Hydra goons on their way, who were easily shot down. Steve was beginning to think that Natasha had simply gotten impatient and joined up with the other Commandos when he heard a strangled cry a hundred feet in front of them. Steve and Bucky ran down the length of the hall that ended in a single door. Steve was about to reach out and twist the knob when the door burst open and Natasha stepped out._

_She looked unscathed. At ease, actually. Natasha shoved a piece of paper at his chest, which he grabbed without taking her eyes off her face. “A list of all the Hydra facilities they were going to ship weapons to,” she announced. “You’re welcome.”_

_Steve stared at her, stunned, about to ask her how she’d managed that so easily, when he caught sight of the blood on her hands._

_“Is that…is that_ your _blood?”_

_“Nope. I’m fine. Can’t say the same for the other guy, though,” she said nonchalantly, like the fact that having another man’s blood on her hands was no big deal. And Steve realized that it wasn’t, not to her. Realization struck him hard, and she must’ve seen it on his face, because, though she kept her face passive, her body tightened, like she was preparing to run._

_“Natasha,” he said lowly. “What did you do?”_

_She met his gaze steadily, tilting her chin up, one eyebrow quirking up the tiniest bit. “I got what we needed.” She shoved past him. “I’ll go find the others,” she called over her shoulder. Then she rounded the corner and disappeared._

_“Steve, in here,” Bucky called out._

_Steve watched the spot where Natasha had disappeared a moment longer. He tucked the piece of paper she’d handed him into his belt, then turned and headed into the room Natasha had come from. He lifted his shield over his shoulder and secured it to his back as he stepped through the doorframe. Bucky was standing next to their man, Abel. The Hydra agent was strapped to a chair, his ankles and wrists bound with black cord. A gash in his hairline had streaked his face with blood, and Steve would have thought he was dead, but his eyes were open and wide. As Steve stepped closer to Abel and a grim looking Bucky, Steve noticed that the man’s fingers were bent at odd, unnatural angles. She’d broken his fingers._

_Something twisted inside of Steve. He clenched his jaw. He took deliberate steps over to the Hydra man, helping Bucky untie the man. He refused to look at his best friend because he knew what he would see behind Bucky’s eyes, knew what Bucky was thinking, because it was the same thing he was thinking. Hydra or not, this guy didn’t deserve this, not for answers that could have been obtained a lot easier. Red Skull, maybe. But not someone this low on the food chain, doing nothing more than taking orders. Steve couldn’t say he didn’t want Hydra gone, because he did. They had taken Bucky, had experimented on him, tested on him. And though Bucky was now safe, Steve knew Red Skull would not stop, not until he and everyone else who stood in his way was reduced to a pile of ash at his feet._

_So, yes, Steve wanted to stop Hydra. But not like this. He knew when he took Natasha on that she was capable of such things. He wasn’t an idiot; he’d known with complete and utter certainty that this is_ exactly _what she was trained for, what she was built for. What she was made into. A torturer. A killer. A black widow. His only hope had been that, when she’d agreed to stick around long enough to let him give her a second chance, she would try a little harder to leave behind the past he’d taken her from._

_It seemed, though, that old habits were hard to break._

_Steve sighed as they finished untying Abel and handcuffing him. Tortured already or not, Colonel Phillips would have questions for him. With no more words than necessary, Steve told Bucky to take Abel back to the trucks. Steve went in the opposite direction in search of the Howling Commandos. When he found them they were surrounded by a couple dozen downed Hydra soldiers._

_“Hey, Cap!” Dum Dum Dugan greeted jovially. Natasha stood beside Dugan, her gaze locked on Steve’s as Dugan clapped her on the shoulder. “You know, I had my doubts about her, but you should’ve seen her, Cap! A couple of these Hydra filth had Jones pinned down in the corner and this one here swoops in like a goddamn avenging angel!”_

_Natasha’s eye lit up in amusement as Dugan called her an avenging angel. She continued to keep her eyes on Steve, and he met her gaze equally as he listened to Dugan._

_“Anyway,” Dugan continued, his face lit up with a huge grin as he adjusted his bowler hat on his head. “Like I said, you should’ve seen her. She took down three of ‘em before the fourth could even lift his gun.”_

_Jones, who had come up while Dum Dum had been speaking, nodded in agreement. “It’s true, Cap. Don’t know if I would’ve have been able to take all of them if it hadn’t been for Romanoff here. It’s like I blinked and they were all dead.”_

_“Glad to hear it,” Steve said, trying to keep his tone cordial. “We got what we needed, so let’s head out.”_

_Steve fell back as the other Commandos headed towards the entrance. Just as Natasha was about to follow, Steve grabbed her arm and held tight, walking them out together. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even tense up at his tight grip. He realized that she was completely and utterly calm. The fact that she just tortured a man and then went and killed a dozen more meant nothing to her. It was just another job, another mission. She’d completed it, wiped the blood off her hands, and then went about as if nothing had happened._

_And the dead Hydra soldiers wouldn’t have been a big deal—they’d all taken a few out that day—but the fact that she tortured one of them…well, Phillips had said to report every detail of the mission, and Steve couldn’t exactly leave this out. Not only would Natasha probably get sent back to Russia,, Steve would get the shorter end of the stick when it came to the Colonel’s wrath._

_-:-_

_The whole ride back, Steve kept a tight grip on Natasha. The others had seen Abel in the truck when they’d loaded up, and even though there was no doubt that it had been Natasha, the Commandos still had some level of uncertainty in their eyes. And Steve could understand. From what Dugan and Jones had said, it sounded like she’d saved Jones, at least, and perhaps a few of the others while she was at it. And Steve couldn’t deny that he was grateful for that. Though he’d only been working with the Commandos a short time, he’d grown fond of them, and he wouldn’t want to see any of them get hurt. Or worse. What Natasha had done would have meant a lot more to him if she hadn’t tortured a guy first._

_When they got back on base, Steve went straight to Phillips to give his report—leaving Bucky outside to guard Natasha, which neither of them looked happy about—and hand Phillips the list of Hydra bases that were supposed to have gotten weapons shipments. After he was done, the Colonel was silent for a long time. Steve waited for his temper to explode, to get the chewing out of a lifetime about how Steve was supposed to keep an eye on her, and how she had been a risk from the beginning, and so on and so forth._

_Instead, Phillips heaved a deep sigh, rubbing the list of Hydra bases in between his fingers. For a few minutes more, though, the Colonel looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent._

_“Sir?” Steve prompted._

_“Look…” Colonel Phillips started slowly. “I don’t agree with her methods. We do not condone torture—_ ever. _But there are a lot of things that weren’t condoned before this damn war started, and, well…sometimes the rules need to temporarily change to get results, Rogers. There’s no doubt she needs to be punished for this behavior. I think two days in solitary should suffice. But I won’t send her back to Russia. Not yet, at least. This will be her warning.”_

 _Steve blinked, letting Phillips’ words sink in. The Colonel, who had been so adamant about_ not _letting her join, who had been damn near rushing to send her back to her country, was now giving her the benefit of the doubt. “So…you’re…you’re not going to send her back? You’re just going to lock her up for a few days? That’s it?”_

_Steve wasn’t sure if he was angry or not. Honestly everything about Natasha confused him. He couldn’t get a read on her at all, but she seemed to be able to look at him and stare right into his soul and his mind and see everything that he was feeling and thinking and it drove him crazy. He didn’t agree with Natasha torturing Abel, but he also didn’t want to ship her off either. He actually agreed with Colonel Phillips completely, he just wasn’t sure he wanted to voice that._

_“Look, Rogers, you told me what Jones and Dugan said,” Colonel Phillips spoke. “Her torture methods were unorthodox, yes. But she’d good. I’m not going to deny that fact. I think she’ll be a good addition to your team. Especially if it means that she can help you take down this Hydra threat. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can end this war for good.”_

_Steve pondered that a moment before nodding. “Yes, sir.”_

_“Good. You can escort her to solitary. Then I want a written report of the events that occurred today from each of you. On my desk by tomorrow morning.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Steve said again, before taking his leave._

_-:-_

_1 day later…_

_Steve had barely taken a step into the room before Natasha spoke._

_“You know, I thought solitary meant that I’m supposed to be_ alone, _” she pointed out lazily._

_She was laying on her cot, hands folded across her stomach and eyes glued to the ceiling. Steve moved in a chair from outside without saying anything. Natasha sat up slowly, pushing her bright red hair back from her face. It was such a mundane thing to do, that Steve was almost startled. She was always calm and collected, poised and deliberate in everything she did. He was starting to realize that she never did anything by accident, even something that could get her in trouble, like this._

_Steve watched her, not sure what to say. Part of him wanted to apologize for the way he’d acted towards her, though it was completely justified. Part of him wanted to yell at her like Colonel Phillips didn’t. But instead he sat silently._

_“Rethinking your decision to save me, Captain?” she asked. Steve was surprised how serious she looked as she asked him. There was no teasing head tilt, to smirk. She honestly wanted to know his answer._

_“No,” he replied, meeting her eyes, his voice just as honest as her question._

_The mask she always seemed to wear flickered for a moment, the calm and cool exterior fracturing into a look of shock and disbelief—and maybe a little sadness, too—before she collected herself once again. Her green eyes searched his face, as if trying to find a different answer in his features than the one he’d given her._

_“Maybe you should,” Natasha said flatly. “Rethink your decision to save me, that is. I’m not worth saving, anyway.”_

_Steve shook his head, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t believe that.”_

_He saw her jaw clench, her eyes flashing defiantly. She sat up straighter, her body tightening and fists clenching like she was gearing up for a fight. But when she spoke, her voice was hollow._

_“What you saw yesterday, that was nothing,” she said, a little venom easing its way into her voice despite the emptiness in her eyes. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Captain. And if you knew, if you could see me at my worst…you’d be_ begging _to have me sent back to Russia. Hell, you’d probably try to kill me yourself. The Black Widow program did not turn me into a killer,” she paused, then leaned forward as well, so they were only a foot apart._

_“They turned me into a monster,” she whispered._

_“If you’re such a monster, why agree to repay your debt in the first place? Why agree to any of this?” Steve asked._

_“I didn’t do this to repay my debt,” she replied. “I didn’t do it for you, or the U.S. or to stop Hydra. I did it to escape. I shouldn’t be_ alive, _much less around good people like yourself.” She admitted._

 _“Well, I didn’t give you this second chance for my own selfish reasons,” Steve agreed. “I don’t care about you repaying some life debt. I offered you the deal because I thought you deserved a second chance. I did this for_ you. _Not for any other reason. You accepting the deal isn’t selfish if I offered you the chance to_ be _selfish.”_

_“Why, though?” she demanded angrily. “You don’t know a damn thing about me! Why the hell would you care if I lived or died?”_

_“Because,” Steve said as he stood. “Like I said before, I still think you’re worth saving.”_


	9. Trying Harder

_January, 1944_

_Natasha had decided to try harder._

_She hadn’t decided much since arriving at the SSR base. Well,_ arriving _wasn’t the right word. She hadn’t exactly had a choice. Which, thinking about it, wasn’t exactly, completely true either. She could’ve escaped at any time while Captain America and his fellow Commandos brought her to the base weeks ago. So she supposed choosing not to escape had been her first decision. Accepting the Captain’s offer to repay the debt she owed him was her second. Changing her name (which she’d fallen right into the familiarity of like it was the name she’d been born with) was her third decision._

_Behaving was her latest, decent, decision._

_Not that she hadn’t made decent decisions before coming here. She just hadn’t had to think about making the_ moral _or_ right _or_ honorable _decision. She’d been trained to take out a target. Not to ask questions or, for that matter, even question the morality of shooting someone in the head. She’d been given orders and she followed them._

_Lately she hadn’t had to do that. At least not to the same extent. And she found it harder to break out of the habit than she would have thought. Being raised pretty much her whole life in the Red Room, where any sign of weakness meant unbearable, cruel punishments—or worse—she wasn’t used to…well, acting like a normal human being. She was used to the feeling of blood under her fingernails, of bruises that lasted for weeks, of being chained up at night like an animal. Even soldiers, like the ones she was now surrounded by, felt remorse for the lives they took. That had been beaten out of her at such a young age… So, Natasha felt nothing. She could remember the faces of her victims, and thus far, they had not haunted her one bit._

_So, when the Captain had given her that_ look _…when he’d realized what she’d done at the Hydra facility, torturing that man, it was quite a shock when she felt the tiniest hint of regret worming its way around her stomach. Looking back, she couldn’t say she felt incredibly guilty about it, since they’d gotten the answers they needed, and she hadn’t done nearly enough damage to kill the man. But there was a small part of her—miniscule, actually—that wished she hadn’t done it._

_She hated that part of herself._

_And now she’d decided that she was going to make a better effort to cut back on her old methods. She was out of the Red Room. It was gone and she never had to go back. There were no more handcuffs to hold her down anymore…it was time to let Natalia Romanova go and start living up to her new name. And she wasn’t necessarily doing this out of the goodness of her heart (she wasn’t even sure how much goodness there_ was _in her heart), or because it was the right thing to do….no, it was because damn_ Captain America _had basically said that, despite everything, she deserved a second chance. She deserved to be saved. And that small part of her that she hated, had broken down under those words, made her want to do better. If even for just the short time that she was here._

 _Because the second she fulfilled this damn debt, she was going to disappear. She’d probably change her name again, become someone new. Do whatever the hell she wanted and never have to look at Rogers again. God, was he naïve. And trusting. Completely out of place in the war he had landed himself in, where bad people did bad things and felt nothing but satisfaction afterwards.  It was actually infuriating, how absolutely…_ good _he was. She hadn’t decided if she liked his unwaveringly loyal best friend yet, but at least Barnes knew how fucked up the world they were living in was. Instead, even in the middle of a warzone where men were falling around his feet, choking on their own blood, Rogers only saw the best in everything and everyone. He’d managed to find something good inside of her and damn if that didn’t annoy the hell out of her._

_Natasha exhaled slowly as she laced up her boots, tucking the bottoms of her pants into them. Barnes had just left, addressing her shortly in one sentence, letting her know there was a mission briefing in ten. Shed had a couple missions since that first unfortunate one, and Barnes still hadn’t seemed to have given her one inch of trust. She couldn’t really blame him, though. She didn’t trust him either. Rogers…there were times he would look at her and his gaze was hard, disapproving. But for the most part he’d miraculously decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And she’d been behaving on the last few missions, only doing what was necessary to stop any Hydra soldiers that came her way._

_“Knock, knock,” a voice sounded gently from the doorway, and Natasha looked up to see Peggy Carter standing there. Carter stepped a little farther into the room, smiling politely. “Just wanted to see if there was anything you needed before the mission debrief.”_

_“I’m good, thank you,” Natasha responded as she stood. “Did the Colonel send you? Or was it Rogers?”_

_Peggy kept her gaze level with Natasha’s. “Nobody sent me, Natasha. I don’t know yet if I can call myself your friend, but I would like to think of myself as your ally. You don’t seem to have too many around here, and I think you need as many as you can get. Especially after that first mission of yours.”_

_“Mm,” Natasha nodded. “Right. That mission. Where I tortured somebody. Yeah, I don’t think that allying yourself with me is going to make anyone forget that. About the only thing it will do is ruin your reputation.”_

_“I doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks of me,” Peggy said. “No matter what I do it will still be questioned because I am a woman. Just like you. Hence, all the attention you’re suddenly getting.”_

_“Attention, yes,” Natasha agreed. “It’s not like I get to sit at the popular table now, though.”_

_“No.” Peggy pursed her lips. “But I think everyone is making quite a big deal out of it. It’s not like they didn’t know what you did before coming here. And I’m not going to presume to know anything about your past or what you went through, but from what I’ve gathered, it sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice—then_ and _now. And before, it seems like it was life or death. And the fact that you chose life—even surrounded by so much death—tells me one thing.”_

_“Yeah? And what’s that?” Natasha asked skeptically._

_“That you’re a survivor,” Peggy replied earnestly. “I think you and Steve share that quality. So you might be stuck here a while if saving his life is what’s going to set you free. He doesn’t often need saving.”_

_“Everyone needs to be saved from something.” Natasha told Peggy quietly. “Whether it’s from a bullet or themselves or something in between. I might lie about a lot of things, but I was not lying when I said that I would fulfill my debt to him. I’m going to save him. Only seems fair, since he’s so hell bent on saving me. Even if I’m too far gone.”_

_“Mm,” Peggy hummed in disagreement. “He must not think you’re so far gone that you can’t be saved. Otherwise he wouldn’t be wasting his time.”_

_Natasha didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut._

_“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, Natasha.” Peggy smiled, and then disappeared out the door._

_-:-_

_The mission briefing made it seem simple enough. A small band of Hydra members had holed up in an abandoned, and mostly destroyed town nearby, and all they had to do was eliminate them, to keep them from joining up with Red Skull’s larger force. But now Steve and his Howling Commandos were far outnumbered against a horde of Hydra numbers, so clearly the mission was not the piece of cake everyone assumed it would be._

_“Everybody get down!” Dugan yelled out as he pulled the pin from a grenade and pitched it towards half a dozen Hydra soldiers heading their way._

_Steve ducked behind a wall with Bucky and Jim Morita, Junior Juniper and Pinky Pinkerton joining them just as the grenade exploded, the screams of dying Hydra members accompanied by the noise of debris raining down. They waited a few seconds before heading back around the corner and heading back into the fight. Steve wielded his shield as another dozen Hydra soldiers appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He heard the chatter of Bucky’s submachine gun, and Dugan shouting insults and profanity at the enemy. Just when it seemed like they’d gotten the upper hand, and explosion went off on the other side of the street, where the rest of the Commandos and Natasha were._

_“You got this?” Steve shouted to Bucky and Dugan over the commotion._

_“Oh, no worries, Cap,” Dugan tilted his bowler’s hat. “We’ll be just fine here. You go help the others.”_

_Steve nodded and headed out the back way, taking a few Hydra members down as he exited the building and crossed the street. The building the others were in could hardly be called a building anymore, considering how riddled with holes it was and how many chunks of wall and roof were missing. And now, along with the old damage, there was fresh smoke—a thick, black cloud of it—rolling into the sky, flames licking out of gaps in the building’s structure. As he approached, the sound of gunfire rang in his ears and it gave him hope that the rest of his team was still putting up a fight._

_He bared his shield as he entered the building, heading towards the sound of combat. He could tell he was getting closer when the Hydra members started coming at him. He flung his shield expertly, taking down a few guys at a time as he made his way towards his team. When he found the five of them—Jones, Dernier, Falsworth, Happy Sam Sawyer, and Natasha—they were up against almost two dozen Hydra soldiers. Steve broke his way into the melee, bowling through a couple guys with just the force of his body. At the sight of him—clad in his red, white, and blue—his fellow Commandos smiled and started firing back with renewed vigor. Natasha looked over at him and gave him a quick nod, before she set back to firing her twin set of guns._

_Just as the Hydra numbers dwindled, more came. As the fighting continued, Jones and the others ended up on the other side of the room, making a stand against the entrance the Hydra members seemed to be coming from. Steve found himself side by side with Natasha._

_“So, there were a few more Hydra members here than you thought, huh?” Natasha commented slightly breathlessly._

_“Ah, just a few,” Steve replied. “Nothing we can’t handle, right?”_

_As he threw his shield again, he almost missed the small smile that Natasha gave him. Another wave of Hydra soldiers flooded in through one of the large holes in the wall behind him and Natasha. Steve barely had time to warn the others of the incoming enemies before the Hydra soldiers started firing. About the only advantage they had was the fact that these Hydra soldiers didn’t have the upgraded weapons that most of Red Skull’s armies had been given. It was regular bullets being fired at them instead of Tesseract energy beams._

_“You think someone told Hydra we were coming?” Steve asked Natasha as she stood shoulder to shoulder with him._

_“Either that or they guessed we were going to come anyway, and decided to make it a little harder for us,” she responded._

_It seemed as if the Hydra agents had stopped coming, but there were still plenty left, firing magazine after magazine at them. The other Commandos were holding their own on the other side of the room, but that was because most of the Hydra soldiers had decided to go up against him and Natasha. Natasha had run out of bullets and was going after Hydra soldiers using her assassin training, armed with nothing more than her body and a small knife that shone ruby red with blood. As Steve caught his shield in his hand, he spun and caught sight of Natasha. She was fighting off two Hydra soldiers in front of her and she didn’t notice the one coming up behind her._

_“Natasha, down!” Steve shouted._

_She heard him and used her body to bring one of the Hydra agents she was battling down with her. But she wasn’t quite fast enough, the other Hydra soldier in front hindering her movement. The Hydra soldier that had been creeping up behind her had managed to get a few rounds out of his gun before Steve could fight of his own adversaries long enough to take the guy out. He heard Natasha cry out shortly in pain, before stabbing the Hydra agent she’d wrestled to the ground in the neck, blood spurting out over her hand._

_“Natasha?” Steve shouted her name, worried._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grit her teeth and stand, taking out the other Hydra soldier as she did so. The fight was dying down and Steve saw her take a second to press a hand to the wound on her thigh, which is where she must’ve gotten hit. Not long after, all the Hydra soldiers were down. Steve headed over to Natasha, wiping the back of his gloved hand across his dirt streaked face._

_“You all right?” he asked, reaching out a hand to help her if need-be._

_But she was stubborn. She looked at his hand, but didn’t move any closer to him to accept the support. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “I’ve had worse.”_

_Steve clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. Jones, Falsworth, Happy Sam, and Dernier made their way over to the two of them. It looked like Jones had gotten clipped by a bullet, his upper part of his left sleeve soaked with blood, and Happy Sam looked like he had a dislocated shoulder. Dernier was streaked with dirt and scratches, Falsworth in similar state except he had a large gash on his temple, blood running down the side of his face._

_“You guys okay?” Steve asked his Commandos._

_“Just fine, Cap.” Jones smiled. “We killed a whole lot of Hydra today, so I, personally, couldn’t be in a better mood.”_

_Falsworth laughed and nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Red Skull guess we were coming here and decided to keep us a little more occupied. Guess he underestimated us.”_

_Steve smiled, allowing himself to feel victorious for a moment. “Let’s go regroup with the others.”_

_The other Commandos chattered excitedly with each other as they made their way out through one of the holes in the building and back across the street to where the rest of their team was. Steve fell back and walked with Natasha, who was limping. Her hand was pressed to the wound on her left thigh. From what he could tell, it was on the outside of her leg, nothing that couldn’t be made better with some bandages and a shot or two of whiskey. And even though she didn’t want his help—nor did she really seem to need it—he put a hand low on her back to steady her. Steve felt her tense up for just a moment, but then she seemed to relax. And considering she didn’t shove him off or threaten to break his fingers for touching her, he figured it was all right._

_When they rejoined the other Howling Commandos, they were greeted with grins of victory and Hydra bodies littering the ground. Dugan, Bucky, Juniper, and Pinky looked a little banged up and dirty, but otherwise fine. Morita was putting pressure on a bullet wound to his shoulder. They were all a little bruised and battered, but it was dozens of Hydra soldiers lying dead on the ground, not them. Bucky came up to Steve first, but when he spotted Natasha, bloody and holding her injured leg, Steve swore there was a flash of concern in his best friend’s eyes._

_“Pinky, Dernier, help Natasha back to the trucks,” Steve ordered. Natasha didn’t look too happy about getting helped to go anywhere, but she didn’t protest. “Gabe, Happy Sam, Morita, you guys head back to the truck, too. The rest of us are going to do one last sweep, see if we can find anything.”_

_“Aye, aye, Captain,” Pinky consented before stepping forward with Dernier to give Natasha a hand._

_Steve took the others and finished their sweep, before heading back to their trucks. Dernier had been standing guard and nodded at them as they approached. Dugan hopped in the driver’s seat as the rest of them piled in. Steve found himself in the back of the truck, seated in between Natasha and Bucky. As they headed back to base, the sound of the engines, combined with the noise from the rough road they were driving on, Steve almost missed the quiet thank you Natasha whispered to him._


	10. Trying Harder Part. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up right after the last one.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Natasha gritted her teeth as the nurse working on her finally managed to get a hold of the bullet in her leg and pull it out, dropping it with a metallic clank onto a tray. A few minutes later, just as the nurse was taping the bandage off, Rogers appeared in the doorway._

_“Try and stay off this leg as much as you can for the next couple of days, Ms. Romanoff,” the nurse recommended politely._

_Natasha nodded, not sure how well she could follow the nurse’s directions. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t exactly her forte. The nurse gave her a smile and then headed for the door, giving the Captain a polite nod as she headed out._

_“How are you feeling?” Rogers asked once they were alone._

_“Like I said earlier, I’ve had worse,” she told him as he pulled a chair up in front of the hospital bed she was on. “Trust me, this is nothing.”_

_He looked like he didn’t believe her, but that’s because he didn’t know all that she’d had to go through to earn the status of assassin, much less status of Black Widow. She’d been shot before, and from all her experiences, they were mild compared to some. They were quick. Sure, they hurt like hell as the bullet burned through flesh and sometimes bone. And they hurt afterwards too, but a few stiches and some bandages patched that up just fine. She’d suffered through pain that lasted for days._

_If only Rogers could see the scars that mapped her body. If only he could see farther in and look at all the bones that had been broken and re-broken. See the scars that went deeper than flesh and bone. Scars that twisted their way through her subconscious, the kind of scars that made her wake up at night covered in her own sweat as the remnants of her nightmares danced behind her eyes._

_If he could see all of that, maybe then he would understand that she meant it when she said a bullet wound was nothing more than a scratch to her._

_“Well, I talked to the Colonel,” Rogers started. “The next mission will take a few days, if not a week, to put together. Shouldn’t be too hard to get that bed rest you need.”_

_“Right,” she scoffed. “It won’t take as much as a mission to make me want out of bed. I’ll get bored long before then.”_

_“Guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you, then.” He gave her a small smile._

_“Good luck with that,” she retorted._

_He cast his eyes down then, his hands fidgeting. He had changed out of his uniform and was now wearing a tan button-down and dark brown trousers. He wasn’t even wearing a tie. Natasha supposed this was about as casual as he got._

_“Okay,” she sighed. “You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? And I swear to God, if it’s about me getting shot—”_

_“It’s not,” he interrupted her. “It’s…um…I actually wanted to apologize.”_

_She looked at him, confused. Natasha prided herself on being able to read people, to know what they were thinking. She excelled at interrogation during her Red Room training, and to do so, she had needed to learn exactly how people ticked, all in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. But Rogers…well, he threw her completely off. Sure, she had picked up that he wasn’t a very good liar—terrible, actually—and he wore his heart on his sleeve, but he also managed to take her by surprise,_ all the damn time. _He could say one thing and she would get completely knocked off her feet, her opinion of him changing by the second._

_“Apologize for what?” she asked, trying not to show how surprised she was._

_“For judging you so harshly after that first mission,” he said with barely a pause. “In all the years this war had been going on now…well, the Allies have had their fair share of questionable acts. We’ve all made decisions that were questionable, done things that were questionable. What you did…it’s not like it hasn’t been done before. You took me by surprise, is all. And I think that got us off on the wrong foot. I would like to change that.”_

_He looked up at her from under her lashes, and Natasha was so stunned by his apology, that she had to sit there for a moment. She couldn’t think of a time that anyone had actually cared about her this much, cared about_ starting off on the wrong foot. _Hell, she couldn’t think of a time that someone had actually_ apologized _to her. Sincerely, at least. Any apology thrown her way while in the Red Room had been a mocking ‘sorry’ after she’d been beaten to the ground or thrown into a wall or had a bone snap in a sparring match._

 _“I—” Natasha broke off, not even sure where to begin. She’d never been rendered speechless by anyone either. “I should be the one apologizing, Rogers, not you. You…you shouldn’t have to do that. You had_ every _right to judge me for what I did. If anyone made a bad first impression, it was me. And for that matter, a bad second impression as well.”_

_“Right,” he smiled. “I almost forgot that the first impression I got of you was when you were trying to kill me in a building that was about to explode.”_

_Natasha could only offer him half a smile. “Yeah, you probably should have just let that bomb take me out. Or have sent me back to Russia, at the very least. I should not be_ here, _that’s for sure. Would’ve saved yourself a whole lot of trouble if you hadn’t decided to give a shit about me.”_

_“Well, where’s the fun in that?” he joked, but Natasha was being serious._

_“I mean it, Rogers,” she said shortly. “I get that you’re trying to give me a second chance here, but maybe you shouldn’t be. I’m a killer, okay? I didn’t need to torture that guy. I easily could have gotten answers from Abel using less extreme measures. I was…I don’t know. Trying to prove a point. It frustrated me so much that you didn’t seem to understand what I was—what I_ am— _when you offered me that deal. I was trying to get you to see me for the killer I am when I did that. Clearly it didn’t work.”_

_“I don’t give up easily,” he insisted._

_“I can tell,” she muttered._

_“You’re the one who agreed to stick around,” Rogers pointed out. “The least you can do—_ both of us _can do—is make it a little easier. I know you’re not the trusting type, but I’m willing to put my trust in you if you try and do the same.”_

 _Natasha looked at him, then down at her lap. She stared for a moment at the fresh bandages on her leg. Rogers had warned her, in that building, to get down. She’d known the guy was behind her and she’d been preparing to duck anyway, but the fact that he still bothered to call out her name in the heat of battle, to make sure she didn’t get seriously injured or killed…along with the apologizing, it wasn’t something she was used to. She couldn’t say it was a_ bad _thing, though. It was nice, to have somebody watching her back. And that’s what she was here to do for the Captain. She supposed she could extend a little bit of trust his way in the time that she was here._

 _She met his gaze again. “Can’t say I completely trust you. Can’t say I ever will. But…while we’re working together, know that you can trust_ me. _I wouldn’t mind getting off on the right foot this time.”_

_“Guess that’s all I can really ask for.” he gave her half a smile before he stood. “Rest up. I’ll stop by later.”_

_“I already have one nurse, Rogers,” she quipped. “I don’t need another. Though, I’m sure you’d look absolutely adorable in one of their uniforms.”_

_“Ha ha,” he muttered._

_“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Go do whatever it is Captain America does in his free time.”_

_He gave a little laugh and headed for the door. When he was half-way out of the room, he angled his body to look at her. “Draw.”_

_“What?” she asked._

_“In my free time,” he said. “I like to draw.”_

_When he left, Natasha was left alone, surprised yet again by him._

_-:-_

_“You’re thinking too much again,” Peggy said._

_“Am not,” Steve grumbled in response._

_“Are too,” Peggy argued. “Your forehead creases up when you think. You can continue to argue with me, but you know I’m right, so really there’s no point. So? What is it? What are you thinking about?”_

_Steve exhaled. Of course Peggy was right. She usually was. They’d known each other since the beginning of ’43, nearly a year now. During that past year they’d formed a strong friendship. Perhaps even something a little more, but neither of them had acted on it. When Steve worked up the courage to ask her about those feelings—not long before finding Natasha—Peggy had told him that while she maybe loved him at one point—perhaps loved him still, if she was being honest with herself—she wasn’t looking for love right now. Steve was comfortable with that. And who knew what the future held? They could change their minds at some point down the line. But right now, instead of anything romantic, he now considered her one of his best friends. Someone he knew would support him through anything, someone he could confide in. And, of course, someone other than Bucky to call him out when he was being stubborn or an idiot or both._

_“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Steve finally asked. “With Natasha, I mean.”_

_“Ah,” Peggy said, giving him a look and trying hard not to smile as she sat down beside him in the empty mess hall._

_“What?” Steve questioned, clueless as usual._

_“This is about Natasha?”_

_“Yeah, I guess…” Steve trailed off, scanning Peggy’s face, trying to decipher what she was thinking. “I mean…are-are you—?”_

_“If you’re about to ask if I’m jealous,” Peggy cut him off. “I would’ve thought you knew me better than that. Of course I’m not jealous, Steve. In fact, I quite like Natasha. It’s nice to have another woman of action around here. I can’t quite say she feels the same way about me yet, but I doubt I’m the only one she hasn’t quite warmed up to yet.”_

_“Right.” Steve bowed his head slightly. “Sorry for implying that you might be jealous.”_

_Peggy laid a hand over his comfortingly. “It’s quite all right, Steve. I don’t think that’s your real concern though. You asked if you thought you were doing the right thing, bringing her on. Well, what do_ you _think about it?”_

_“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “That’s why I’m asking you.”_

_Peggy smiled, her brown eyes, like dark whiskey, were bright. “Well, in my oh-so professional opinion, I would say just give it time. You saw something in her that urged you to save her from that bomb. And she’s stayed this long, so she must see something in you as well. I know that most everyone else around here is questioning your decision, but I personally think you made the right one.”_

_“Thanks,” Steve mumbled, giving Peggy half a smile._

_She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. She gave his hand a squeeze as she pulled back, her full lips curved into a smile. “See you in the morning, Steve.”_

_-:-_

_Late January, 1944_

_Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to find some patience within himself. Steve had told him to be nice. Bucky had simply grumbled out an agreement, but he’d made no promises. Not when it came to Natasha Romanoff. Because it seemed like one second, he was fine around her, and the next, she would flash her green eyes at him, a corner of her mouth would quirk up, and any politeness he had in him went out the window. And he ignored the skipping of his heart that happened either way, because it definitely didn’t mean anything._

_He knocked on the door to her room._

_“Come in,” was the responding call._

_Bucky twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Natasha wasn’t even looking up. She pushed her hands through the sleeves of her jacket and stood slowly from her bed. He noticed her grimace just slightly as she put weight on her left leg. It only having been almost a week since she’d been shot, he had no doubts that the wound was still tender and sore. Even professional assassins felt some level of pain after getting shot._

_“How’s the leg?” he asked, trying out the ‘nice’ thing on her._

_Natasha looked up at the sound of his voice, a momentary flash of surprise crossing her pretty features. Then the surprise—and even the hint of pain—disappeared and her face returned to its normal, unreadable state._

_“Do you really care?” she shot back at him._

_“Well, now that you ask, no, not really,” he retorted._

_Natasha scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Of all the people Rogers could have sent to come get me, it had to be_ you _?”_

_“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” he muttered. “But apparently everybody else was busy.”_

_“Yeah, I bet,” she said, eyes dancing with amusement. Then she turned serious again. “Look, I get you don’t like me. Can’t say I like you much either. But if we’re going to be teammates, if we’re both going to have Rogers’ back, maybe we should try and be a little more civil.”_

_“Are you…apologizing?” Bucky stepped further into the room, keeping his eyes on her face, trying to find the trick, the answer, in her features._

_“I guess I am, if that’s what you want to call it.” She shrugged._

_Bucky laughed dryly. “That’s rich, coming from you.”_

_“From_ me _?” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m trying to be polite here. And if I’m remembering correctly—oh, but of course, feel free to correct me if I’m not—_ you’re _the one who decided that you hated me the moment Rogers pulled me from the fire.”_

_“Yeah, with good reason,” Bucky argued, his voice raising a notch. “We knew going in that anyone on that base of yours was a killer. And yet he rescued you anyway. Kept pulling you from the fire even after we’d gotten all that we needed out of you. I don’t know what Steve sees in you. All I know is that when I look at you, all I see is death.”_

_Bucky didn’t mean that. Not really. He just wanted to hurt her, if only to stop his heart from jumping every time her pretty eyes met his. Natasha clenched her jaw, glared at him, and Bucky knew that, if she could without consequence, she could kill him right where he stood. He probably wouldn’t feel it. Her nimble hands would be slicing his throat before he could register that there was a blade to his neck in the first place. But he stood his ground, kept her gaze level with hers. And, despite the air crackling with tension, he couldn’t help but think about how pretty she was. Beautiful, even. It was really annoying to have those kinds of thoughts when she was staring him down, but he understood the reason for giving her the name of Black Widow. Her beauty drew you in, that bright flame of hair just as tantalizing as the scarlet hourglass painted on the black spider’s body._

_“I get it,” Natasha spoke, her voice calm, cool. Deadly as the spider’s web. “Rogers is your best friend. You want to protect him.”_

_She took a step forward, and Bucky thought for a moment that she really was just trying to be polite. She was trying to turn over a new leaf with him. Then the corners of her full mouth curved up and he knew he had just fallen into her trap._

_“But are you sure that’s all that this is?” she continued. “Or are you a little jealous, too, Barnes?”_

_“Shut up!” Bucky’s vision went bright red just long enough to fist his hands in her jacket and spin her around until her back hit the wall, hard. A small gasp escaped past her lips from the force, her head falling back against the wall, eyes locked on his, almost daring him to do worse. Now his heart beat with the anger in his veins, the adrenaline. He was practically disgusted at himself for thinking she was pretty a minute ago. Bucky’s hands tightened in the fabric of her jacket, his teeth grinding together as he glared at her. Their faces were inches apart as he pushed her harder against the wall._

_“You don’t know a_ damn _thing,” Bucky ground out. “You don’t get to show up here and act like you own the place just because Steve decided to give you a second chance. One that you certainly don’t deserve.”_

_“You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve it. But I’m going to take it anyway.”_

_Bucky gave her an angry smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you do that. But don’t get too cocky. Remember, your stay is anything but permanent. And let me tell you, the_ second _you pay that debt of yours, the moment that second chance is up, I will personally see to it that your ass is shipped off this base to someplace where we don’t have to see your lying, manipulative face again.”_

_They continued to glare at each other, Bucky counting the seconds by the beat of his own heart. Natasha’s features didn’t twitch once, her gaze steadily boring into his own. She hadn’t even tensed up in his grip. He knew, though, that she didn’t need to tense up in order to be ready to fight. To kill._

_“Let go of me,” Natasha said finally. Her voice was smooth, calm. Bucky was smart enough to hear the warming underneath. He forced the muscles in his hands to loosen, letting his arms drop back down to her sides when he’d let her go. He took the needed steps back, watching her as he walked out through the open door._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a couple notes on this chapter.   
> First, the Steve/Peggy scene, I will definitely elaborate on their relationship in this story in future chapters. There will be a scene coming up where Peggy and Natasha talk, and you’re going to get Peggy’s view on her relationship with Steve. I just love Peggy and Steve so much, and they have such a beautiful, but tragic relationship that they didn’t fully get to explore and ugh. Steggy feels. But alas, this is a Romanogers story, so Steve and Peggy are just really good friends in this story, that at one point, were almost something more.   
> Second, Bucky and Natasha’s relationship, I’m definitely trying to portray that as a very much love/hate relationship. They are a lot alike, I think, and I think that because of that, they would disagree, bicker, fight, etc. a lot. But I’m also trying to portray that Bucky’s being drawn to her, just like everyone else is. As for future chapters, there will be a bit more Bucky/Nat, but this is still a Romanogers story, so Romanogers is endgame. (Yay for happy endgame, but there’s much pain and angst for them to go through before they get there :))


	11. Campfire Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for fun Howling Commandos bonding by the campfire stuff!

_A few months later…_

_April, 1944_

_Natasha was beginning to think that saving Steve Rogers life was impossible._

_In all the months she’d been on base now, all the missions they’d run together, all the bad guys they’d gone up against, and her debt still remained unfulfilled. And yet, if she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn’t in a rush to pay that debt anymore. All she could think about, all those months ago when she’d first bee brought to the SSR base, was how she was going to get out, how quickly she could save Captain America’s life in order to gain her freedom. But what was the point of earning her freedom when she no longer felt like a prisoner?_

_Natasha knew that the first month or so working with Rogers and the Commandos had been rough. She hadn’t wanted to be there, so making a good impression wasn’t really her priority. But these past months, she’d learned to like being there. Enjoy it, even. She got along really well with the Commandos and with Peggy. She, Jones, and Dernier had become pretty close, and she enjoyed conversing with them in French. They would pick words at random to string together, laughing at the confusion on the other Commandos faces as they tried to decipher what they were saying. Steve had picked up on some of the French, slowly learning, and pretty soon he was laughing with them too, much to the others frustration. Another night—after a particularly long and cold mission—they’d gone out for celebratory drinks and Dum Dum was convinced he could hold out longer than Natasha could. He learned the hard way after Natasha had drunk him under the table._

_She and Peggy had gotten rather close in the past months as well. Peggy didn’t expect Natasha to suddenly open up and spill everything about her past and what had happened to her that turned her into a killer, and Natasha appreciated that fact more than she could ever express in words. Instead Peggy told her about herself, how she’d ended up working for the SSR, and so on. Peggy talked about Project Rebirth, about Steve when he was small, skinny, and sickly, about how no matter the laundry list of physical ailments he had, his heart remained true and pure._

_Even Barnes was better than before. Natasha couldn’t say that he was exactly_ friendly _towards her, but he was polite, and he was trying. She assumed that Steve had had some kind of talk with him, but she didn’t know for sure. There had been no more outbursts, though, like the one after she’d gotten shot on one of their earlier missions, and she had to think the best of Barnes, that he was really making the effort to try and get along with her better._

_And then, of course, there was Steve Rogers himself._

_She had pondered, many nights, as to why he’d decided to give her a second chance, and her mind, over and over, had come up with one simple solution: it was because he was, put simply, a good man. Yes, he could be naïve, could be too trusting, especially when he wanted to see the best in people. He was loyal. So loyal that she knew he would do just about anything to protect someone, especially someone he cared about. And he had a pure heart, just like Peggy had said. But when it came down to it—after she stripped him down in her mind, took away the red, white, and blue, and examined every piece of what made Steve_ Steve— _he simply wanted to do the right thing. He was good to a point where it was his fatal flaw._

_Natasha decided the world needed more people like Steve Rogers. There was too much evil in the world, too many people who wanted to do bad things just for the sake of doing bad things. Rogers fought against that, so hard, everyday, just to make the world—the messy, bloody, fucked up world they lived in—a better place. He didn’t do it for the fame or the glory, but simply for the fact that it was the right thing to do. And he always did what he thought was right, no matter the consequence, no matter the price._

_She had realized by now that he was all for giving people second chances—even when they didn’t deserve them—but the fact that he’d decided to give_ her _a second chance still astounded her. He’d seen something in her that night, something Natasha didn’t realize she still had in her. She had lost sight of her humanity a long time ago. For so, so long she’d been nothing but an assassin, nothing but a bloodied pair of hands, silent as the grave in the harsh Russian winters. She was infamous, known only by the name of a spider with a splash of red upon her deadly black body. For the longest time, that’s all there was to her. There was no longer any trace left of the little girl they’d taken off the streets. Only the killer they’d turned her into._

 _She was blood and death. She was a name that was whispered, not shouted. A name that made them afraid._ Black Widow. _And yet, despite their fear, despite the knowledge that she held their lives’ in her hands whether they liked it or not, they still decided to play. They didn’t run._ She would have caught them. _They didn’t try and kill her._ Try being the operative word. _No, they decided to dance with the devil. They tested her, touched her, called her pretty as she watched the fear and exhilaration light up their beady, soulless eyes. She would laugh as she watched them make the decision to try and tame the beast inside of her. Too late would they realize that decision was a poor one._

_Somehow…somehow Rogers saw past all of that. Or rather, instead of trying to ignore her past, he took everything—her past, her present—and saw them as parts to the whole. She wasn’t who she was without her past, and he seemed to understand that. He didn’t try to rein in the beast, didn’t try to change her. Instead he was beginning to show her that she was more than the monster inside of her, even if she herself couldn’t see that._

_He had risked a lot to give her a second chance. And because of that, because of all that he’d done for her, it didn’t feel like enough to just save his life. She owed him far more than that. He was pulling her from the shadows she’d for so long been wrapped and tangled in, choking her, cutting off her air supply. He had this unwavering faith, belief, that she was more than Natalia Romanova, the monster he’d met all those months ago in a room covered in chains and dried blood._

_The trust he put in her was far more than she ever could have asked for. And, truth be told, she was afraid that when she fulfilled her debt, when she left…it terrified her to think about what she might become, that she would go back to being the monster she’d been learning to let go of. And she knew it would happen, too. The monster would resurface and Natasha Romanoff—the better version of herself that she was desperately trying to become, the person that had long ago been buried under secrets and lies and blood—would be dragged back down into the shadows. And she didn’t know if she could go to those lengths again, didn’t know if she had the strength or the will to recover that part of her again, the part that Rogers saw when they first met, the part of her he was so intent on saving._

_Natasha didn’t know if she could be saved. Rogers was trying, and she had to give him credit for that. And she was trying to be better because of him, but there was still a large part of her that thought it to be in vain. She’d been poisoned in the Red Room, pulled out of herself, corrupted, her insides corroded from the acidity of lies and tortures they’d fed her, all to make her feel like she belonged. They’d taken a little girl and stripped her of everything that made her such. They’d taken away the dresses and scuffed shoes, trading them for clothes the color of night. Lullabies sung softly in Russian were traded for screams and the accompanying sound of her fingers being snapped. She learned not to scream. Screaming meant death. She did not want to die._

_They taught her how to lie; her tongue spinning tales to catch her target inside her web. They taught her how to kill; with blades, with guns, with her bare hands. They taught her how to be strong, how to fight. They taught her to not feel, taught her not to love._ “Love is a weakness, Natalia. If you are weak, you will die. You are not _weak,_ are you, Natalia?” _No, she was not weak. She was strong. Black Widow. Black Widow took orders. Black Widow killed. She did not feel. She did not wish or dream or want things for herself._ She did not love. _She did not love. Because love was a weakness she could not afford to have._

_She would always be Black Widow, no matter what she changed her name to, no matter what mask she put on. She did not believe she could be saved. But she could save Steve Rogers, and maybe by doing so, show him that he’d had some kind of impact on her, at least for the time that she was here. Because no matter if she wanted to stay—even a little bit—she couldn’t be that selfish. She didn’t know how to be. She’d never had anything for herself, and this—this team she’d become a part of—was something uniquely her own. But she could not keep it. Natasha knew that leaving was the best option. To keep them safe, to keep Rogers safe._

_She had to save Steve’s life first, though. Which was turning out to be a lot damn harder than she thought._

_-:-_

_Natasha had discovered that even when things were supposed to be serious, the Howling Commandos tended to keep it light. They were currently camped a safe distance away from a large Hydra facility. They planned to infiltrate the base tomorrow, and it was one of the largest ones they’d taken on yet. Most of the Hydra bases they’d gone after thus far had been of a smaller scale, nothing more than middleman posts between the larger facilities. Given such the daunting mission ahead of them, the mood around the campfire should have been a tad more serious, but the Commandos were anything but that._

_Natasha was seated between Peggy and Steve, Bucky on Steve’s other side. Dugan had gotten his hands on a couple bottles of bourbon. One bottle was still being passed around the campfire while Dugan tried to balance the empty one on his forehead. Considering how much he’d had to drink already, he was failing miserably. As soon as Dugan started swaying dangerously, the bottle toppled. Peggy reached out a hand and caught it before it hit the ground, as the rest of them laughed as Dugan regained his balance._

_“Well, your nickname isn’t Dum Dum for nothing,” Morita joked._

_“Fuck off, Morita,” Dugan shot back. “ Like any of you could do better.”_

_“Oh, I’ll take you up on that,” Natasha smirked._

_“All right, let’s see what you got, Red,” Dugan grinned._

_Natasha held out her hand, and Peggy smiled, giving her the empty bottle. She stood up, glancing over at Steve, who coked an eyebrow at her, a smile playing on his lips, all as if to say “Let’s see what you’ve got”. Natasha started off by doing what Dugan had been attempting: leaning back and easily balancing the bottle on her forehead. The Commandos gave encouraging whoops._

_“Yeah, yeah,” Dugan waved them off, “it’s only ‘cause she’s sober.”_

_“That’s because bourbon is awful,” Natasha retorted._

_“And let’s be honest, Natasha could do this drunk off her arse,” Peggy added._

_“You got anything fancier?” Jones asked._

_Natasha grabbed the bottle and straightened, looking at Gabe. “Glad you asked.”_

_She started to pull off her boots, as most of them looked on like she was crazy._

_“Your toes are gonna freeze,” Morita said. “They’ll fall right off. We’ll have to glue ‘em back on.”_

_Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m Russian, remember? They trained us out in the cold when we were wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a shirt. This is nothing.”_

_She finished pulling off her boots, and then grabbed the bottle and balanced it on top of her head. Once she made sure it was steady, she moved into her first ballet position. Something inside her clicked, and she was back training, dancing till her feet bled and her lungs burned. She moved through the first five positons, her toes aching from not having done it in so long. She went through several more positions, a little quicker, all while keeping the bottle balanced atop her head. When she finished, she gave a little bow, catching the bottle as it dropped. Most of the Commandos’ eyes were wide. Dugan had a big grin on his face._

_“Damn, girl,” Happy Sam commented, nodding his head appreciatively._

_Natasha set the bottle down and took a seat next to Peggy and Steve again, tugging her boots back on._

_“That was impressive,” Steve told her once the rest of the Commandos had started up their chatter again._

_“Mm, it’s nothing,” she shrugged off the comment. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by telling him it was just another thing her trainers had beat into her. As she and the other girls moved up in their training—the numbers dwindling from the dozens of little girls recruited, to the top worthy of fighting for the title of Black Widow—they had taught them different skills, including something as mundane as ballet, which just happened to provide an adequate cover when needed. But they taught them that it was about control, over their bodies and their movements. And Natasha had been good. But that was in the past. And Steve seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about it and let it drop._

_Not long after that, Bucky stole the other bottle of bourbon and downed the rest, right before challenging Dugan to a drunken push up contest, with Steve acting as referee._

_“Oh, bloody hell, not again,” Peggy muttered._

_Natasha looked over at her. “I take it this has happened before?”_

_“Oh, yes,” Peggy chuckled. “Several times. The first time it happened, they were all drunk and decided to participate. Since then the numbers have dwindled down to Bucky and Dugan. Steve being disqualified from it all for obvious reasons.”_

_Natasha smiled, glancing over at the guys on the other side of the campfire. Bucky, who was slightly less drunk than Dugan, seemed to be ahead, but Dugan was holding his own. Steve was laughing, a big smile on his face, that made Natasha’s own smile grow bigger._

_“Infectious, isn’t it? Watching him?” Peggy mused quietly._

_Natasha paused for a moment. “Yes, it is,” she agreed finally. Then she decided to voice a question that had been on her mind for a while, that she hadn’t quite managed to deduce the answer of on her own. “What’s the story with you two anyway?”_

_Peggy shook her head. “Oh, there’s no story.”_

_“Yeah, right,” Natasha scoffed. She nudged Peggy’s shoulder with her own, watching as Peggy blushed and tried to fight off a grin. “There’s some kind of story. Even if it isn’t a long one.”_

_“Oh, all right,” Peggy huffed. “There’s not too much to tell…we met when Dr. Erskine—the lead scientist of Project Rebirth—brought him onto base. And, well, I suppose I fell in love with him, before he was the Steve you see now. Well, he’s still the same Steve. Except now he’s not quite as skinny.” Peggy smiled fondly, glancing over at Steve._

_Natasha knew about Project Rebirth, of course. It was hard to even think of Steve as anything but the tall, muscular, all clad in red, white, and blue man that he was now. But she could easily see how Peggy had fallen for him, the man with the good heart that had been chosen for the serum._

_“Well, you care for him, and I know he cares for you too, so what happened?” Natasha asked._

_“Nothing, really.” Peggy shrugged. “I think we both sort of came to the conclusion that it wasn’t a very good time to start anything. We both need to focus on our work, our duties. Now I think we have an unspoken agreement that, after all this is over, we might give it a shot if that’s what we both feel.”_

_“And if not?”_

_Peggy smiled. “Then I want whatever he wants. I just want him to be happy.”_

_“He’s very lucky to have you, then,” Natasha told her quietly._

_“No, no, it’s really the other way around,” Peggy disagreed with a laugh._

_“Not from what I’ve seen,” Natasha said. “Personally I think he’d be a little lost without you.”_

_Peggy shook her head, fighting off another smile, but she didn’t try to argue. Natasha would have said more, too, but just then Bucky came over and swung an arm around her shoulders, smelling of bourbon. Natasha was a little surprised, considering this was the closest he’d been to her physically since her time at the SSR, apart form that time when he’d shoved her into a wall._

_“I just kicked Dugan’s ass,” he boasted proudly._

_“Barely!” Dugan shouted._

_“Aw, don’t be such a baby, Dugan,” Pinky Pinkerton laughed, after which Dugan proceeded to hit him with his bowler hat._

_“Wanna try your hand, Red? See if I can beat you, too?” Bucky asked._

_Natasha glanced up at Steve, who had come over to observe. Steve just shrugged, looking mildly bemused at Bucky’s behavior, if not a little annoyed, which Natasha found odd. But she shrugged it off and turned back to Bucky, who was looking at her expectantly. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and patted his other as she stood. “Sure thing, soldier. Let’s see what you’ve got left in you.”_

_Natasha won when, two minutes in, Bucky puked, and Steve had to catch his friend around the waist so he didn’t face-plant into his own vomit. After that, the Commandos retired to their tents for the night, and Natasha helped Steve get Bucky back to their tent. Bucky promptly collapsed onto his sleeping bag. Steve helped turn him onto his side, in case he threw up again. Seconds later, Bucky was snoring._

_“Is he usually like this after he drinks?” Natasha asked him. “Because I think that’s the most fun I’ve seen him had since I’ve been here.”_

_Steve chuckled. “No. Only sometimes. And he usually only does stupid stuff like this to impress a girl.”_

_“And he decided that girl was going to be_ me _tonight?” she asked incredulously._

_“Well, it was either you or Peggy. And he knows Peggy would’ve scolded him for being an idiot, so.”_

_“Well, he’s gonna be the one paying for it in the morning. He’ll have one bitch of a hangover.”_

_Steve laughed again. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure they’ve gone into battle after crazier nights than this. Once Hydra starts shooting at him, he’ll forget all about that headache he’s gonna have.”_

_“That’s for sure.” She smiled, before taking a step back. “I better go. I have first watch.”_

_Steve nodded. “I’ll join you.”_

_“You really don’t have to do that. I think I can handle it myself.”_

_“Well,” Steve grinned. “I wasn’t looking for your permission.”_

_And even Natasha couldn’t argue with that._


	12. The Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's ass-kicking time!

_Taking over the Hydra base started out fine. That is, until the bad guys’ reinforcements showed up with a tank._

_“Holy…” Dugan muttered, taking a step back so he was shoulder to shoulder with Natasha, the tank visible in the distance through the hole they’d blown into the front wall of the compound as a way to throw off Hydra, since they’d come in the back way. Now, it seemed, Hydra had a few surprises up their sleeve as well._

_“Where the fuck did they get a tank? I thought we took all of them out at that base in Germany in ’43,” Jones cut in._

_Dernier shook his head and spit on the ground. “Hell if I know,” he muttered with his French accent._

_“I think the question now is how do we stop the tank?” Natasha told them. They had found some brief cover amongst the debris, but that certainly wouldn’t hold back an entire tank, especially not one equipped with the Tesseract technology that Hydra had been putting into their weapons. They were faced with more of those weapons each mission, and she knew that pretty soon, real bullets would be out of the question for Hydra._

_Natasha glanced over to the other side compound they were in. The building’s main floor was mostly open space, any equipment or other forms of cover lining the walls. Through the masses of Hydra soldiers now rallying as the tank continued to get closer, she could see the other half of their team. The flash of Bucky’s semi-automatic and the glint of Steve’s shield were considerably bright amongst the black-clad Hydra soldiers. As Peggy had taken Happy Sam, Pinky Pinkerton, Junior Juniper, and Morita to the upper levels, Natasha had been helping Steve and Bucky. That is, before they got separated. And now they were all going to be preoccupied trying to take out that damn tank, and the Hydra soldiers would overrun them._

_“Dugan,” Natasha said slowly, a plan already formulating in her head. “You got enough explosives to take out that tank?”_

_Dugan grinned, glancing at her then Dernier, who was smiling as well. “Between the two of us,” Dugan said enthusiastically. “We’ve got enough explosives to take out the whole damn block.”_

_“Perfect.” She smiled. “We only need enough to take out this building. Think you guys can get the tank_ inside _the building?”_

_“Inside?” Jones asked, confusion flickering across his features before realization did. “You want to turn the tank into one giant bomb. Tank goes boom, along with the rest of Hydra’s forces.”_

_“Exactly,” she clarified._

_The three of them nodded in agreement, and she could practically see Dugan and Dernier’s fingers_ itching _to blow something up._

_“I can get the others out when you’re ready,” she told them. “How long do you need?”_

_“Well, we left some extra explosives in that building by the back gate we came in by…” Dugan trailed off, mustache twitching._

_“Gabe can cover us to the building,” Dernier said. “After that, ten minutes—_ maybe _—to whip up a bomb. And a little time after that to get the tank close enough to inside the building as we can.”_

_“Half an hour at most probably,” she commented, half to herself, inwardly grimacing because half an hour in battle could feel like forever. “I can let the others know the plan, and then we’ll hold them off till then.”_

_“Sounds good, Red.” Dugan grinned. “I’ll give a big wa-hoo when we’re about to blow the place.”_

_“Maybe let us know when you’re planning on crashing the tank into the building, too. Not really feeling like getting run over today.”_

_Dugan laughed. “You got it. All right, boys. Let’s go get some explosives and blow all these Hydra bastards to kingdom come.”_

_Natasha covered them till they were out of the building before making her way to the upper level to let Peggy know the plan._

_When Natasha did find Peggy, the other woman was in the middle of beating a guy over the head with metal pipe. The other Commandos with Peggy were further down the hall, taking out the last few Hydra members that were still standing._

_“Natasha,” Peggy greeted breathlessly, pushing her dark hair back from her face, stepping over the body of the now unconscious, and very injured, Hydra soldier. “Everything all right downstairs?”_

_“Not exactly—” Natasha was cut off by the sound of the tank’s gun exploding. It still sounded a ways off, but it wouldn’t be long before the monstrous machine was on top of them._

_“What in the bloody hell_ was _that?” Peggy asked._

_“Hydra has a tank,” Natasha replied simply._

_“Perfect,” Peggy muttered, before turning and signaling the others to come join them._

_Seconds later the other Commandos had joined them and Natasha was telling them the plan she and the others had come up with for destroying the tank and the rest of the Hydra forces._

_“Two birds with one stone,” Happy Sam commented._

_“Or, in this case, explosives,” Junior Juniper added._

_“Yeah, sure” Happy Sam muttered with a roll of his eyes._

_“Dugan’s gonna give the signal when they’re ready to blow the place,” Natasha told them. “All that we need to do is run like bats out of hell and the explosives will cover the rest.”_

_“Sounds good to me,” Peggy agreed._

_“Yeah, me too,” Morita echoed. “All right, let’s go kick some more Hydra ass until then.”_

_He gave a grin and a little whoop before charging off in the direction Natasha had come from, towards the stairs, the other Commandos hot on his heels._

_“Shall we?” Peggy asked with a small smile._

_“It would be my pleasure,” Natasha said in return, and they followed the others back down into the chaos._

_Hydra soldiers came at them immediately, the sight of more of Captain America’s troops making them freshly trigger-happy. As the others broke out into fighting, Natasha snuck off along the flanks, trying to make her way to where Steve and Bucky were, stealthily taking out members of Hydra’s ranks as she went._

_She found herself next to Bucky, who had just shot down a couple of Hydra goons when half a dozen guys—big guys, clearly bigger than all the rest, with thick armor covering their towering forms—joined the fight right in front of them. Natasha took a step forward, taking a second to make sure her shot was perfectly accurate, before firing the bullet into one of their necks, right in the chink of his armor. Blood spurted, spraying one of the other guys, and Natasha took the opportunity to leap at him while he was momentarily distracted. A few blows later and she got behind the guy, bending him backwards, his feet scrambling to find purchase on the ground. Swiftly, she snapped his head back with a satisfying crack and he crumpled to the ground._

_Natasha stepped back towards Bucky, risking a glance at him. He was breathing hard, dirty and scratched up, but otherwise fine it seemed. He met her glance for a split second, giving her a nod, before turning back to the other four brutes. They all seemed to be hesitating after having just watched Natasha take out two of them in a matter of seconds. Natasha kept her eyes trained on them, focused on Bucky at her side and the enemy in front of her. There was noise off to the left, closer to the back wall of the building. At the commotion, two of the guys darted off, and Natasha could only see from the corner of her eye that they were headed for Steve, before one of the remaining two lunged at her. She heard Bucky engage with the other one as she was forced back a few steps._

_The guy managed to land a solid blow to her side, causing her to gasp and he took the opportunity to knock her gun out of her hand. She ducked before he could repeat the motion, but it wasn’t quite fast enough. He reached out and yanked on her arm—hard. She was flipped to the ground, her arm protesting, nearly ripping out of the socket. He dropped to his knees, that ugly Hydra mask staring back at her as he reached for her neck, she got an arm up in time to keep his fingers from reaching her throat. He pressed harder, before lifting a fist and giving her a solid punch across the jaw. She could taste blood in her mouth as she reactively bit down on her cheek. Just as he was about to go for her neck again, she shifted, and brought a knee up to his groin. The area was protected by some padding, but not enough and the guy groaned, nearly falling on top of her, she rolled out from underneath him, bringing an elbow down on his back before he could recover enough to stand up. She picked up her gun and fired a couple rounds into his back mercilessly._

_Natasha turned back to help Bucky, as he was still fighting the other big goon. Seeing as she was about to step forward, he shook his head quickly. “No!” he shouted. “I got this! Go help Steve!”_

Steve. _Right. She gave Bucky a quick nod before turning her body and darting off towards the back wall to where Steve was. As she neared him, she could see him fighting off the two big guys that had run away from her and Bucky, as well as several other regular Hydra soldiers. Natasha joined Steve’s battle, radiating all the power and terror that came with the title of Black Widow. Within a matter of seconds, the number of enemies against them had dwindled as Natasha struck down the regular Hydra soldiers, before the two bigger men came at them, hands curled into fists that looked like they could smash through a wall with no problem. Natasha didn’t really think these men had been enhanced in any way—they fell like any other man—but it was clear that they had been selected and trained to essentially be human wrecking balls. Using all hands and brute force, instead of weapons._

_The bigger of the two—who even had a good two to three inches on Steve—strode towards the good Captain himself. Natasha barely had time to watch them engage in battle, full of punches and kicks and the flash of Steve’s shield as he deflected blows, before the other one attacked her. She’d run out of bullets and was left with her own body to fight the guy off. And whether he’d been specially trained or not, she was better. And faster, for that matter. The guy had size and weight on her, but it also slowed him down. He charged her, face unreadable through the black of his mask. He swung out his fist at her, missing as she ducked. She grabbed his still outstretched arm as she came around behind him, yanking the limb down hard, flipping him to the ground. He landed on his back, but immediately started to rise._

_The Hydra brute moved to grab her leg, and she slammed a foot down on the hand that was still planted against the cold floor. He howled in pain. While he was dazed, Natasha kicked him square across the jaw. He groaned and fell back again, but wasn’t completely out. She pulled a knife from her belt and moved her body over him, pinning him down, prepped to bring the knife across his throat. But he flipped her just as the knife was an inch above his neck—apparently not as weak as she’d thought. She fought underneath him as he tried to pin down the wrist holding the knife. Landing a good solid punch to his temple with that same hand that was curled around the knife, she used the opportunity to end his life, warm blood spattering her face and jacket as she slashed the weapon across his throat. He gurgled around his last breath and she shoved his body off her, wiping a hand across her mouth, breathing hard._

_Natasha looked up, searching for Steve. When she spotted him, he was surrounded by more Hydra soldiers, the other big guy face down a few feet away, though it was hard to say whether he was dead or not. As it turned out,_ not _dead was the correct answer. The man stirred, hand scrambling for a fallen gun. Everything seemed to slow, and Natasha saw the guy cock the gun and aim it at Captain America’s unprotected back. Without a second of hesitation, she charged, covering the distance between her and the Hydra soldier in no time, kicking his arm just as he fired the gun. The shot—which seemed deafeningly loud—went just wide enough, only missing Steve by and couple inches, hitting another Hydra soldier instead. Steve looked back just long enough to catch her gaze. She could see him register what had happened, and he gave her a quick nod, before turning back to the enemy soldiers in front of him._

_Natasha grabbed a discarded weapon herself and mercilessly emptied a bullet through the big guy’s head. He dropped like a rock. Having a moment to breathe, Natasha looked around the building’s main floor. Bodies littered the ground. The other Commandos were on the other side of the building, adding more bodies to the sea of black-clad Hydra soldiers that already covered the floor. Bucky had taken down the last big Hydra soldier, and was fighting his way through the regular Hydra enemies to make his way to her and Steve._

_Suddenly, just as she was about to jump back into the fight, the air stilled, just before an explosion ripped through the front wall and partially into the back one that she and Steve were by. She swore under her breath in Russian, having momentarily forgotten about the tank in the midst of battle. Natasha headed for Steve just as another shell was emptied into the building, blowing apart more of the back wall. She came up next to Steve as chunks of wall began to rain down. Steve grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his body as he raised his shield over their heads. He gritted his teeth as debris and pieces of wall rained down on them._

_Even as it stopped, Steve held her to him for just a moment longer, and she marveled at how incredibly_ safe _she felt in his arms. He smelled of the heat of battle—smoke and blood and dirt—but also a bit like the soap they issued out at base. His body was warm, hands strong as they held her tightly to him, protecting her. His whole body was a shield. It was kind of nice…_

 _“Thanks,” she breathed. Then she pulled free from his grasp, shaking away the ridiculous thoughts that had been circling through her mind a second before. She wasn’t some little school-girl with a dumb crush, especially not a crush on_ Captain America.

 _Natasha looked to the front wall. Through the huge hole now in it, she could see the tank approaching, closer and closer, until it looked like it was going to crash right_ into _the building—_

_“Wa-hoooooo!” came Dugan’s cry, echoing around the floor._

_She grinned. That was their signal. She turned back to Steve, grabbing his arm. “We’ve gotta go.”_

_She remembered that he didn’t know the plan, but he didn’t question her. He raised his hand, signaling to Bucky and the others across the room to get out. The enemy had been cheering earlier when the tank had fired into the building, but now they stopped, frozen as the tank barreled into the building itself, raining more chunks of stone and other debris down on the enemy._

_Bucky came up behind her and Steve as they crawled out through the hole in the back wall, Bucky firing back at the Hydra soldiers who tried to follow them. They raced back to the rear gate where they’d come in, the other Commandos appearing as they rounded the building. Seconds later, the tank inside the building exploded into a huge fireball, the ground trembling, the heat reaching them, even as far back as they were. They all crouched low, hands going up to cover their heads instinctively. The building started to collapse, flames reaching high as smoke, thick and black, rolled into the sky. Dugan and Dernier appeared in the distance, big grins on their sooty faces._

_“Wa-hoo!” Dugan cheered again, encouraging victorious cries from the rest of them._

_Natasha grinned again, looking up at Steve._

_“Your plan?” he asked, pride glinting in his blue eyes._

_She nodded. “Yeah. I figured if they had a tank, we could use it against them.”_

_Steve bobbed his head up and down, a smile growing on his face. “Nice job.”_

_“Well,” she poked his chest. “Couldn’t let you take the glory all the time. Wouldn’t want it going to your head.”_

_“Right, of course not,” he chuckled. His features sobered up quickly, and her own smile fell. “You saved me,” he said softly. He said it almost like he wished it weren’t true, almost like he didn’t quite believe it. Or didn’t want to._

_“Yeah,” was all she could muster, because, for some reason, the fact that she’d done it—_ actually done it and saved his life— _was not nearly as happy a moment as she’d thought it was going to be._

 _“Your debt is paid.” There it was. That_ voice _again. She couldn’t even pinpoint what it was. Disappointment, maybe. Why would he be disappointed, though? Now she could get out of his hair and he’d never have to see her again. But it that what he wanted? Was that what_ she _wanted?_

_Natasha didn’t even know anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha paid her debt, now what? :)   
> Wow, the smiley faces look super creepy on here. Anyway.   
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Stay

_Bucky fiddled with his pocket knife as he waited for Natasha outside of Colonel Phillips office. They’d gotten back on base yesterday, and he’d noticed that both Steve and Natasha had been unusually quiet the whole way back. Considering what Bucky had seen—Natasha fulfilling her debt by saving Steve’s life—it wasn’t all that surprising. Bucky hadn’t felt like talking much after the fact either._

_He’d realized, while fighting by her side during the mission, that they had a good dynamic. They worked well together. In fact, the three of them—him, Natasha, and Steve—they all worked well together. They had become a team of sorts, all initial hate or distrust on his part aside. She’d wedged her way into all of their lives and he knew they would all feel it when she left. Especially Steve, who he hadn’t seen since they’d gotten back to base. Bucky knew he would feel it too, the loss of Natasha._

_There was still, most definitely, a part of him that was so easily infuriated by her, but at the same time, he felt a pull to her, deep in his gut. He had narrowed down both feelings down to kindred spirits. Whether he liked to admit it or not, they were alike. More so than he would have ever originally thought possible. Because of that he knew they were destined, in the end, to be enemies or friends. Nothing in between. He was glad it turned out to be the latter._

_When he heard the door to the Colonel’s office open, he closed his knife and slipped it back into his pocket, watching as Natasha emerged from the office. She spotted him right away. If she was surprised that he was there, her features didn’t show it._

_“Waiting for me?” she asked, a slight twinkle in her green eyes._

_Bucky nodded. “Thought I would escort you—”_

_“Ooh,” she cut in teasingly. “‘Escort’? How fancy.”_

_He scoffed as they started to head down the hall. “_ Anyway, _” he started again. “Just thought I would bring you back to your bunk, see if you need help packing anything up.”_

_She gave a short laugh. “Just can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?”_

_Bucky laughed, but when he spoke, his voice was serious. “Actually…if I’m being honest, it’ll be kinda tough to see you go.”_

_The surprise was clear on her face this time as she twisted her head to look at him, but she schooled her features quickly. “Really?” she asked, voice almost uncertain._

_“You’ve become one of us,” he said simply._

_Now it was her turn to scoff._

_He gave her a look. “I’m serious. You’re part of the team. Maybe not completely, but in all the ways that matter.”_

_Natasha didn’t reply. He noticed her hands ball up into fists momentarily, before loosening them with what seemed like at least a little bit of effort._

_Bucky turned back to looking straight ahead as they continued to make their way to her bunk. “I saw what you did, you know. For Steve. Saving his life.”_

_He felt her tense up beside him. “Yeah,” she said, tone clipped. “It was nothing. I did what anyone would have.”_

_“Yeah, except nobody else was looking to fulfill a debt to him.”_

_“I didn’t see it as fulfilling a debt,” she admitted. “That whole debt thing was just the best excuse Rogers could come up to keep me on base.”_

_“But it worked, didn’t it?” he prompted._

_“I had my reasons for staying, other than that stupid deal,” she replied vaguely, eyes staring straight ahead, back straight, shoulders stiff._

_“I figured that,” Bucky told her. “We all kinda figured that. Steve’s deal_ was _a pretty shitty one. I mean, getting you to stay here because of a_ life debt _? For someone as smart as him I would’ve thought he could come up with something better than_ that. _”_

_Bucky looked over and saw that she’d cracked a small smile at that._

_“Still,” he continued as they made it to her bunk, stepping inside and shutting the door. “No matter what reasons you had for staying, deal or no deal, debt or no debt, I don’t take what you did lightly.”_

_She turned to look at him, eyes intent on his face as she listened. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a little nod, urging him to continue. He sat down on her bed, hands braced against his knees._

_“You saved Steve’s life,” he said. “I’ve been pulling his ass out of the fire since I can remember, and I wasn’t close enough to him to do that the other day. You were. I don’t care about some dumb debt either. I care that he comes out of battle in one piece.” Bucky paused, hands tightening around his knees. “Look…I think you and I got off on the wrong foot—”_

_“That’s an understatement,” she muttered._

_“Can I finish?” he asked._

_“Oh, please do,” she shot back._

_“I just…to be honest I didn’t think that you were actually going to do it. Save his life, I mean. If anything I thought you were going to be the one to pull the trigger. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry. I misjudged you, and that wasn’t fair of me. I didn’t even know you, and I allowed myself to listen to rumors instead of getting to know you first.”_

_Natasha was silent for a moment, before a smirk pulled up the corners of her mouth. “Wow. I think that’s the nicest you’ve ever been to me. I’m impressed. I wasn’t even sure you had that in you. You’re not gonna explode are you?”_

_“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, exhaling as he stood. “You would’ve gotten to see be nice some more if you weren’t leaving.”_

_She looked steadily at him, a small smile on her mouth, and he had a feeling she knew something he didn’t. Hell, she probably knew a lot that he didn’t, but this was different. This was something relevant that she knew._

_“I’m not leaving, James,” she said softly._

_And there it was. He was so surprised by what she’d said that he was barely fazed by her using his first name. “What?”_

_“I’m not leaving,” she repeated. “Not yet, anyway. That’s why I was talking to the Colonel. I’ve got a few things to put together still, some contacts to sort out, before I leave. Figured I would just stay here in the meantime. Besides…it’s not so bad being part of a team.”_

_She looked up at him from under her lashes, that teasing smile still playing on her full lips. Bucky just stared at her as he processed._

_“That’s…that’s great,” was all that he could come up with._

_She just laughed and rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Don’t sound too enthused.”_

_“Still processing,” he muttered. Then he smiled at her. “You called me James.”_

_She met his gaze evenly. “Steve and the others call you Bucky. I may be part of the team, but I’m not them.”_

_“No, you certainly are not,” he told her softly. He held her gaze for a moment longer, before ducking his head, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at her. “I should probably go. Um, you should really tell Steve. He’ll be glad to hear you’re here for a bit longer.”_

_She nodded in acknowledgment. “I will.”_

_He stopped by the door on his way out. “Goodnight, Natasha.”_

_She smiled at him. “Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.”_

_He laughed, and then left, shutting the door quietly behind him, feeling better than he had in a few days._

_-:-_

_Peggy got to Natasha before she had barely stepped outside of her room. Peggy didn’t even need to say anything, Natasha just knew, and headed back into her room, plopping down on her bed, where Bucky had been sitting just moments before._

_“Let me guess,” Natasha started, looking at her friend. “Barnes told you.”_

_“Oh, I was on my way to see you anyway,” Peggy waved her off, pulling up the single chair Natasha had to sit right in front of her. “But I was coming to see you off, and now I’m just glad that I don’t have to.”_

_“Yeah,” Natasha trailed off._

_Peggy didn’t seem fazed by her lack of a response, though. “So? What changed your mind about leaving?”_

_“I’ve still got some contacts to get a hold of, a few things to sort out before I leave,” she automatically told Peggy, using her go-to response for the question. It was the excuse she used on Colonel Phillips, the same one she gave Bucky. It was an easy answer. It made sense._

_And yet, Peggy wasn’t fooled, and gave her a disbelieving look._

_Natasha knew that Peggy was smart—brilliant, actually—but it really showed during moments like this, when Peggy had no qualms about calling her out on her bullshit. Natasha also had to give Peggy credit for actually figuring out, in the short time that they’d known each other, when Natasha wasn’t being completely honest._

_“He got to you, didn’t he?” Peggy asked knowingly._

_Natasha shrugged, trying to act casual. And it annoyed her to no end when she felt her pulse spike for just a moment at Peggy’s question. “I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Bloody hell, Natasha,” Peggy muttered. “That’s worse than telling me that you’re sticking around because you still have ‘a few things to sort out’.”_

_Natasha kept her mouth shut, refusing to answer. She was behaving ridiculously, like a child, but hey, she was stubborn._

_Peggy rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Good god, you’re just as bad as Steve. And_ that’s _who I’m talking about, though I know you already knew that.”_

_Natasha tilted her chin up, keeping her gaze anywhere but on Peggy._

_“He got to you, didn’t he?” Peggy repeated the question, more softly this time. “Steve? He’s the reason you’re staying, right?”_

_Natasha inhaled and exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes on the ceiling a moment longer. Finally she looked back at her friend. For a moment she expected to see Peggy gazing at her triumphantly, like she’d just won some kind of contest between them, but that wasn’t the case. Peggy was giving her a soft smile, not exactly sympathy in her gaze, but a sort of mutual understanding. Natasha didn’t know much about Peggy and Steve’s past, but in the moment she knew that Peggy had gotten hooked, completely drawn in—perhaps unexpectedly—by Steve’s utter charm and his morals and his loyalty and everything else about him that made everyone around him want to be a better person. Even Natasha, who was about as damned as they came._

_“Yes,” she answered Peggy finally, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. She cleared her throat, hating how small and weak she sounded. “Yes,” she repeated, louder. “He_ got to me, _all right?”_

_Peggy’s smile grew, but it wasn’t mocking. “I figured as much. He has that effect on people.”_

_Natasha scoffed, because that was pretty much an understatement. Steve’s personality was practically magnetic, sucking people in, whether they wanted to be or not. A smile, a smart-ass comment, and a selfless action was usually all it took to put people under his spell. And the worst—or perhaps best—part of it all, was that he had no damn clue. Well, maybe he did, but if that was the case, he sure didn’t flaunt it or act all cocky about it. That’s why it worked. He was just the way he was because that’s who he was. He wasn’t trying to impress anybody or be somebody he wasn’t. He was Steve Rogers, and that was it. though most people now saw him as just Captain America, star-spangled in red, white, and blue, it was the man under the uniform that made Captain America a hero._

_And Natasha had been sucked in like everybody else, and she’d hardly realized it until now and the thought of leaving had given her an odd feeling, one that she still couldn’t place._

_“I just figured I would see this through,” Natasha told Peggy._

_It was half the truth. She_ did _want to finish this, and see Hydra burn to the ground. She’d sleep a little better. But, if she was being honest with herself, it was because of Steve himself. No other motive, just him. Saving his life once didn’t feel like enough, and the least she could do was stay, if only to show him how much she appreciate what he’d been doing in trying to save her. Because a small part of her knew that he_ had _saved her. Not completely. But a little. Her staying was proof of that._

_“He’ll be happy to hear that,” Peggy told her._

_“Just don’t tell the Colonel,” Natasha told her with a smile. “Because I gave him the same excuse I gave you: that I was staying until I could finish getting things together.”_

_Peggy laughed a little at that. “Your secret is safe with me.” Peggy stood up then, smoothing out her skirt, and gave Natasha another smile. “You should really go talk to Steve.”_

_Peggy threw one last smile over her shoulder before she left, quietly shutting the door behind her. Natasha let out a breath, leaning forward and bracing her hands against the edge of her bed. Her pulse fluttered, a shot of nervous warmth flooding into her stomach as she thought about Steve. She shook her head, letting out a similarly nervous laugh._ This is fucking ridiculous, _she thought. She’d been taken off the street by her Red Room superiors too young to really experience that first school-girl crush, but she assumed this is what it felt like. But she wasn’t some love-sick little girl, she was the Black Widow, and_ Captain America _was the last person she should have a_ crush _on._

 _She kept trying to tell herself it wasn’t a crush, that she just felt like she owed him, but it wasn’t really working. She couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that was very much attracted to him. What wasn’t there to be attracted to? He was a damn near perfect specimen. (So it was an_ attraction, _not a crush, she decided). And despite his god-like physique, he was one of the most human people Natasha had ever met. He was kind and selfless and honest and he’d given her a second chance when she’d least deserved one. And because of that, she couldn’t let whatever attraction she had for him go beyond that. He wasn’t some target she was seducing, and she figured that she_ would _leave, eventually. No sense in getting any more attached than she already was._

_And yet a small part of her nagged that some things were easier said than done._

_-:-_

_Steve had been idly—and maybe a little furiously—sketching when the knock sounded at his door. He exhaled, though it came out as more of a sigh. It was probably Bucky, checking up on him again, even though that was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to be alone right now—_

_When he opened his door, though, it was not Bucky. Natasha looked up at him in greeting, half a smile on her face, and everything seemed to stand still for a moment. He felt his lips part slightly at the sight of her, half from surprise and half just because of her. He’d noticed, from the moment they’d met, that she was beautiful. Anyone could see it. And it wasn’t just her looks that made it so. The confidence with which she carried herself was just as breathtaking. But even knowing how beautiful she was, it wasn’t until more recently that he’d really started to notice it. They’d been working side by side for several months now, and he was getting to know her a little better each day, slowly filling her in piece by piece. And he wanted to keep putting her together. He’d started to solve the puzzle that was Natasha Romanoff, but he was beginning to realize that this enigma was one that was going to take some time. Which is one thing that he did not have._

_“Can I come in?” she asked raising her eyebrows at him like she was confused that he was still just standing in the doorway, staring at her no less._

_“Uh, yeah, of course,” he said, flustered, stepping aside. He could feel the slightest blush creep up into his cheeks and he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck._

_He shut the door quietly behind Natasha, and turned to find her looking around his room, her features soft, and more open than he’d seen them before, completely absorbed in her curiosity, and Steve realized that she hadn’t actually been in his room before. It wasn’t anything spectacular, and only slightly bigger than the other bunks. He did have some art supplies spread out on his desk, and the sketchbook he had just been working in was sitting on his bed, but other than that, there wasn’t much personality to the room. A stack of books was piled neatly on his desk. His clothes and shoes were tucked away nicely. Natasha seemed fascinated, anyway. Most likely because she was getting another peek into the life of Steve Rogers when he wasn’t in his Captain America uniform._

_“So,” he started, swallowing hard, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trousers. “Are you all packed?”_

_He couldn’t completely hide the strain in his voice, and Natasha turned to look at him immediately. She scanned him up and down, and Steve tried not to squirm under her gaze. Her face gave away hardly anything, as usual._

_“Steve,” she started slowly. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”_

_He didn’t say anything, because she was spot on. She had to know that. He had no doubt that his feelings were plastered all over his face, because they were twisting and somersaulting inside him, punching holes in his stomach and dropping his heart like lead. He didn’t know why the fact that she was leaving made him feel this way, but he could barely contain it inside of him._

_“It’s gonna be tough to see you go, I guess,” he said, trying to even out his tone. Her gaze softened a little, and she took a few steps towards him, closing the space between them so they were only a few feet apart._

_“Yeah,” Natasha mused quietly. She paused, and there was something almost teasing about the way she looked up at him. “Guess it’s a good thing, then, that I’m not actually leaving.”_

_Steve stared at her. His brain slowly, almost letter by letter, pieced together her words and the meaning they had once all strung together. Then he repeated it over and over in his head, just to make sure he got it right, that he wasn’t imagining things, all while Natasha’s expression grew more and more amused._

_“You’re…you’re_ staying _?” he finally managed to say._

_Natasha gave him a soft smile. “Sure am.”_

_“I—well, that’s great! I mean, really, I’m glad, but…why?”_

_“Guess I just didn’t want to leave without seeing this through,” she told him earnestly, softly, and the weight of her words was clear. She was staying because, somewhere along the way, this mission became something more for her. It wasn’t just his mission anymore, but hers as well. And he knew her well enough by now to know that she didn’t leave anything half finished._

_He looked at her with a small smile, because he really didn’t know what else to say. That sick feeling from earlier had completely disappeared, and he almost wanted to pull her into a hug, except he knew she wouldn’t appreciate that. She did return his smile, though. And then she stepped all the way up to him, and stretched up on her toes, softly pressing her lips to his cheek._

_“Goodnight, Steve,” she murmured when she pulled back. Then she gave him a little smirk, and left the room._

_“Night, Natasha,” he said, though she was gone and all he had left was the burning imprint of her lips on his cheek._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last chapter I have to post right now. I actually posted this three weeks ago, and I haven't gotten any less busy. I know where I'm going after this chapter, but I've been in a bit of a slump for this story and I've been busy, and now it's the last two weeks of the semester and it's just going to get busier. 
> 
> I will try to update soon, but it might not be till I'm done with the semester. 
> 
> And at this point we're about halfway, maybe a little less, through the flashbacks. They're going to go all the way up to 1945 when Steve "dies". So there will be a few more time jumps. But we're getting to the good stuff here! 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated! Thanks for reading, it really means a lot!


	14. The War Outside Hydra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Finally. For all of you worried about whether I would continue this or not--of course! I love this story too much to stop! Sorry this took so long to get up though. Combination of writer's block and life makes writing harder than usual. But to make up for it it's a pretty long chapter!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: there are mentions of rape (non-explicit though), probably a little more violence in this one. Mentions of concentrations camps, WWII in general. I really wanted to do a chapter where Steve and the Commandos weren't fighting Hydra and experiencing the other parts of the war, so this chapter is a little more graphic. 
> 
> Lots of history references for you fellow history buffs or history majors out there! WWII is my preferred area of study, so this was kind of a fun chapter for me to write. 
> 
> Anyway, warnings again for this chapter. The concentration reference is near the beginning (just a little way into Steve's POV) and then the rape reference happens a little after that, almost halfway through the chapter. Violence throughout. Be safe, friends.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. There is some German in this chapter. I don't speak German so I got all the translations from Google Translate and I'm sure they're not 100% accurate, so I apologize to any German readers or speakers. If you do happen to speak German, let me know any corrections I can make to the translations!

_1 month later…_

_End of May, 1944_

            _The SSR base was abuzz with news about the war. Steve spent so much time off base with the Commandos, seeking out Hydra bases to bring down, that he often wasn’t on base long enough to hear updates about the war front. But it was nearing the end of May and the main talk was of Operation Overlord, the dropping of U.S. soldiers into enemy territory. Colonel Phillips had only given the specifics of the operation to him and a few other higher ups, including Peggy. The Colonel had also been asked to send a small squadron of SSR soldiers to aid in the planning for the invasion of Normandy that was to take place within the next week or two. Other than that, Colonel Phillips had kept the crucial information and details of the operation under wraps in case of spies or the capture and interrogation of soldiers. But just knowing that the invasion was going to take place was enough for most soldiers, effectively renewing the soldiers’ confidence and hope._

_Part of Steve wished he could go with, even be a part of the Allied force that pushed into German-occupied France. But he knew, even being Captain America, that he couldn’t fight every front of the war on his own. And his main battle was with Hydra. They were just as much of a threat as the Nazis, and it was his job to stop them, to keep them from aiding Hitler’s forces in taking out as many soldiers and other innocent people as they wanted._

_But for the moment, at least, Hydra seemed to be laying low. Steve knew it wouldn’t last, but he also knew he was closing in on the last of the large Hydra bases, and no doubt Hydra and its ruthless leader, Red Skull, were biding their time. So when Colonel Phillips asked him to lead a mission with his Commandos to a town in Poland—dangerously close to their Allied base—that Nazis had taken over, he couldn’t say no. Because no matter how much he wanted to take down every last member of Hydra, he also had to remember that he wanted to join the war to stop Germany too. And this would give a chance to do that. And with the air around base energized with thoughts of the impending U.S. push into German-occupied territory, there wasn’t a better time than now._

_The other Commandos seemed pleased as well._

_“‘Bout time we got to take on some good ol’ fashioned Nazis,” Morita beamed as they were packing up the trucks to head out._

_Once the trucks were all loaded up, they all found their seats and headed out. Steve was seated in between Bucky and Natasha, examining the map laid out on his lap. Gabe Jones and Dernier were up front, conversing in French. Natasha was fiddling with one of her knives, seemingly not paying attention to anyone else, but every once in the while Steve would catch her smirking out of the corner of his eye and he figured she was listening in on Gabe and Dernier’s conversation. Bucky, Falsworth, Morita, and Dugan were having a conversation as well, though there was more swearing than actual words, making it hard to pick up on what they were_ actually _talking about._

_“All right, Cap,” Dugan piped up. “What’s the plan here?”_

_“The eight of us will split up into two teams,” Steve started, loud enough for Gabe and Dernier to hear in the front. “Bucky, Natasha, Falsworth, and myself will take the north entrance to the town. The rest of you will cover the south entrance. Some of soldiers in the other truck will stagger along the sides to catch any stragglers and the rest will join us once we’ve gotten past the initial defenses. From out intel we know there’s anywhere from eighty to a hundred Nazi soldiers still in town.”_

_“That sounds like a lot for a small town,” Falsworth commented._

_Steve nodded. “There weren’t that many stationed there after the town was taken, but a couple dozen or so arrived yesterday to help move supplies out.”_

_“Supplies?” Morita asked. “What kind of supplies?”_

_“There’s a metal factory there,” Steve replied. “That’s why the town wasn’t completely evacuated like most of the other Polish towns at the beginning of the German invasion. They were forcing most of the civilians to help in the factory, making weapons, bullets, parts for vehicles. But the metal supply has run dry, or they ran out of funds, we’re not completely sure. Either way, the Nazis’ are heading out. They’re getting as much supplies out as they can, and god only knows what will happen to the civilians.”_

_“Concentration camps, most likely,” Natasha said, hardly looking up from the knife glinting in her hands. She didn’t raise her voice hardly at all, but the sentence rang around the inside of the truck like she’d screamed it._

_Along with news of the impending Operation Overlord, more news about the German’s horrifying labor and concentration camps had started going around base. In the beginning of the war, the news of these camps had been nothing more than a trickle of half-concrete information. Now it was a flood, and the Allies knew for sure that the camps that they had thought couldn’t be anything more than half-real nightmares were, in fact, very real. From what he’d heard on base, it sounded like the Allies were closing in on locations for some of the camps and were preparing to liberate those held prisoner. But first more Allies had to get into Europe, had to push back at Germany, and that meant success in the invasion of Normandy._

_“There’s a labor camp not far from the town,” Natasha continued, snapping Steve out of his thoughts._

_The other Commandos were staring at her and she finally looked up from the weapon in her hand. “What?” she said. “You’re not the only ones with sources.”_

_“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Steve cut in, “because we’re going to get there and stop them before they hurt any more people.”_

_They all nodded in agreement to that and then they all fell silent._

_When they arrived, they parked a mile away, pulling the trucks into a clearing just inside the woods that ran along the east side of the town. Steve debriefed the men in the other truck that Colonel Phillips had sent along for the mission, going over the plan, while Bucky and Natasha scouted ahead. Steve finished the debriefing and he went around to the different teams, making sure they were ready. Bucky and Natasha came back and gave the go-ahead, telling them all that no one had seen them coming into the area and that they were clear to move in close to the town._

_Steve gave them all a few last parting words of encouragement before they split off into their respective teams and headed through the trees to the different ends of the town. Steve carefully led Bucky, Natasha, and Falsworth to the north end of town, finding a spot behind a waist-high brick wall. They crouched down low, before Steve stuck his head out far enough to assess how many enemies were. He spotted at least a dozen Nazi soldiers right near their current position. They were monitoring half a dozen trucks that were being loaded with supplies from the factory and what looked like other goods, most likely stolen from the citizen’s homes. There were probably a dozen or two able-bodied men and women loading heavy crates and boxes into the trucks. Any time one of the civilians even twitched in the wrong direction, the Nazi soldiers would yell at them in German, raising guns or batons above their heads, ready to strike, the enslaved people cowering in fear._

_Steve clenched his jaw, tightened his fists, resisting the urge to jump out of their hiding spot right that second. Instead he turned back to his team and relayed what he saw. None of them looked real happy about it either. Bucky muttered under his breath angrily and Natasha’s eyes flashed with rage, though she kept the rest of her features schooled. Falsworth was quiet but his jaw was tight and his hand itched towards his gun._

_“Ready?” Steve asked them quietly, meeting each of their eyes. They all nodded. He let his eyes linger on Natasha a second longer. Her expression was unreadable, as usual, any emotion so carefully concealed. But just as he was about to give the signal to alert the rest of the teams, he swore he saw her smirk just the tiniest bit._

_“Let’s go,” he announced. He gave the signal and then charged out to meet the enemy._

_-:-_

_Steve’s team came out so fast the Nazi soldiers’ reaction was delayed, all of them momentarily frozen in shock, eyes on the red, white, and blue blur that Steve was. Natasha, Bucky, and Falsworth all fired their weapons as Steve threw his shield, and the sudden onslaught seemed to jolt the Nazis into action. Bullets hailed down on them, causing them to make a more cautious approach. Dugan’s team was quickly making their way towards them, pushing through the Nazis that had been more on the south side where they’d been positioned._

_Steve barreled through a couple soldiers, wrenching away ones gun before catching his shield and bringing it down on their skulls. They dropped quickly and he raised his eyes in search of his next target. As he scanned the battlefield, he saw Natasha and Gabe leading away the frightened civilians, though, with a heavy heart, Steve saw a couple of them lying on the ground, pools of their own blood steadily getting bigger around them. Either caught in the crossfire or purposely executed by the German soldiers. Bucky was heading towards some of the buildings where there were probably a dozen more soldiers, some grabbing civilians and dragging them off between the buildings. He darted off in that direction, giving Bucky a nod as he reached his best friend’s side._

_The second they got close to the narrow alleyway between the buildings, shots rang out. Steve pulled his body tight against one wall, Bucky doing the same with the other._

_“Shit,” Bucky muttered as a few more shots were fired, the bullets spraying against the stone wall close to where Bucky was._

_“Ideas?” Steve asked, glancing over at Bucky._

_“Well, I’m thinking since you have the shield, dumbass, you should go first.”_

_“And then what? You gonna jump out and yell boo, hope they go away?” Steve shot back._

_Bucky made a face. “Don’t be a smartass. I was going to go around, close in on them from behind.”_

_Steve grinned. “Good plan.”_

_“Gee, thanks,” Bucky snorted. “If you hadn’t been so busy running your mouth, I could’ve told you my_ great _plan five minutes ago.”_

_Steve just chuckled and shook his head. “Ready?”_

_“Go,” Bucky finished and quickly started to make his way around the back of the building as Steve swung out and positioned himself at the mouth of the alley._

_Steve crouched low, bullets ringing against the vibranium of his shield. He pressed forward, forcing the soldiers back. They were shouting in German, combining with the sound of metal against metal and the whimpers of the civilians they were holding hostage behind them. One bullet went wide, tearing through the fabric and grazing his arm. He grimaced, but ignored the pain. Keeping the shield steady on his left arm, he pulled his pistol out from its holster, quickly swinging his arm out from behind his shield and fired multiple times. Two soldiers went down immediately with short cries of pain, bright blossoms of red spreading across their uniforms. Steve had only hit the other in the side, and though the man was clutching the wound tightly, he was still standing._

_The wounded man and the remaining soldiers backed up slowly, both defiance and fear flashing in their eyes. Before the Nazis or Steve could take another step, Bucky appeared behind them, gunning down two of them right away. Steve used the opportunity to throw his shield, the vibranium disc connecting with the injured man’s neck, effectively downing him._

_“Come on, Steve, the last two took the civilians this way,” Bucky said, heading forward towards the other buildings._

_Steve barely heard him as he bent down as placed two fingers to the injured man’s neck. He waited ten seconds…then twenty. Nothing. He was dead. Steve frowned. Yes, the Nazi soldier would have not have hesitated to kill him or Bucky or any amount of civilians, so Steve did what he had to and took him out. And he was a Nazi in the first place. It didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Lying on the ground, blood leaking from the wound Steve had inflicted, he looked like any other man._

_Bucky had noticed his hesitation and stopped in front of him, crouching down so he could meet Steve’s gaze. “Steve,” Bucky started, voice calm but firm, only a partial reflection of the angry fire in his blue eyes. “I know you only like to kill when it’s necessary, but this_ was _necessary. The last thing we need is more civilians to die because of these bastards. Or running off and telling fucking Hitler what went down here today. Now get the hell up because you’re Captain fucking America and there are more civilians that need our help.”_

_Steve nodded, clenching his jaw and standing taller than before. Bucky stood too, a grim smile on his face._

_“That a boy,” Bucky remarked._

_“Let’s go,” was all Steve said, leading the way towards the other buildings._

_They split up just like before, hoping to crush the last two soldiers between them before they could kill the innocent people they had with them. As Steve closed in he could hear shouts in German and the responding cries and wailing of the terrified civilians. He reminded himself that these were bad people, and killing them was a necessary evil. He braced himself to jump out, but before he could, he heard Bucky shouting._

_Steve jumped out and took in the scene. There were four civilians huddled along the wall on his right. There was one woman pinned against the opposite wall, tears streaming down her face, her skirt hiked up much too far. The soldier that was pinning her there had just reached down and undone his zipper when Steve saw Bucky go for him. The pieces clicked into place for Steve as he went for the other soldier guarding the other civilians. His earlier guilt didn’t even matter as he shot the man in the kneecap. The Nazi soldier howled in pain, falling to his injured knee. Steve shot the other knee out, and somewhere deep inside of him he enjoyed the way the map screamed out in agony. The soldier fumbled with his own gun, but before he could take a shot Steve had swung out his shield, connecting with the man’s temple with a sickening crunch. The man dropped like a stone and Steve didn’t need to check his pulse to know that he was dead._

_He gave the people a quick reassuring look before turning back to Bucky. The woman had tried to make herself as small as possible, crouching low against the wall, knees tucked up to her chest. She was still crying but watching Bucky as well. Bucky who had the Nazi soldier who had attacked her on the ground._

_“Fucking Nazi bastard,” Bucky ground out angrily, driving the toe of his boot into the man’s stomach. Bucky repeated the motion till the man was clutching his hand against some surely broken ribs and coughing blood up into one hand._

_Steve cautiously approached Bucky, something in him unable to make him step in just yet. The Nazi scrambled for his gun that had fallen in the dirt but Bucky stomped down on his fingers and Steve could hear several bones snap, even underneath the shout of pain from the man. Bucky crouched down, fisting his hands in the man’s jacket. The soldier struck out with a fist of his own, connecting with Bucky’s jaw, but it barely seemed to faze Bucky, who delivered three solid punches of his own. “Sick son of a bitch,” Bucky muttered, taking out his pistol and shoving it against the man’s forehead._

_The Nazi soldier just laughed and Steve went to stand by Bucky’s side. The soldier continued to chuckle which just pissed Bucky off more. His best friend raised his pistol and struck the man across his temple, gashing open the skin there. The man groaned and then coughed, scarlet coating his lips. The Nazi looked at Bucky before shifting his gaze to Steve. He grinned, teeth red with blood._

_“Captain America,” he laughed with a thick German accent. “Not even you can stop an entire war. These people…that woman—” he broke off when Bucky punched him again. “these people,” he continued with a smug look on his face, “are only a few in the thousands we have already killed. Only a few in the thousands more we will annihilate. Good luck stopping us, Captain—”_

_“Shut him up,” Steve interrupted quietly. But Bucky heard and emptied a bullet into the man’s skull, eyes glazing over, the alley now strangely quiet._

_Bucky wiped at the blood that had spattered his face, standing up, and giving the man’s dead body one last kick before going over to console the woman the Nazi had nearly violated. Steve made one last round around the buildings, not finding anything but the bodies of their dead enemies. He helped Bucky lead the civilians back to the open strip where they’d entered. The other Commandos had rounded up civilians as well and were handing out what food and water they could. Steve did a headcount. His main Commandos were all there. Dugan had a bullet wound in his shoulder, and Morita and Falsworth both had pretty nasty gashes on their heads, but other than that, everyone was mostly just scraped up and bruised._

_He wasn’t sure about the other men Colonel Phillips had sent with him, the teams he’d placed on the east and west sides of town. They’d all regrouped and he looked around more closely, counting carefully. 12, 13…14…No, that wasn’t right. The Colonel had sent twenty men with him. He counted again. And again. Still fourteen. His heart sank. And then it sank even further when he noticed the solemn faces and worse, the bodies wearing U.S. uniforms carefully laid out on the ground next to their trucks, which someone had pulled into town. He walked over to them, their faces etched into his brain whether he liked it or not. He knew their names. He always took care to learn everyone’s names. Antonio Garcia, Benny Wise, Jacob Hardy, Walter Olson. Only four bodies out of six missing._

_“The other two—Pat and Oscar—were blown to kingdom come,” a voice behind him said. Steve turned and saw one of the men Colonel Phillips had sent with him. Steve recognized him. His name was Levi and he knew that the other two guys he’d mentioned—Pat and Oscar—had been his friends. Steve noticed Levi was pretty banged up, dirty and bruised, with what looked like a bullet graze on his leg and a couple of bad cuts on his face. He was twisting two sets of dog tags between his fingers._

_“Fucking Nazis blew my friends up,” the soldier muttered, seemingly to himself._

_Steve reached out a laid a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”_

_Levi looked like he was going to say something smart-mouthed in response, something about how sorry wasn’t going to fix a goddamn thing, but then his face fell and he nodded, chin wobbling just the slightest. “Thanks, Captain Rogers.”_

_Steve knew he could say nothing else to console him, so he turned and went over to see Dugan and Falsworth. He was just about to ask for an update when he stopped short. He quickly did another headcount, eyes seeking out a particular redhead. He did another count. Nothing. He swallowed down his panic. She wasn’t there. Natasha wasn’t there._

_“Where’s Natasha?” he blurted out, swiveling back to look at Dugan and Falsworth. “Where is she?”_

_“After you and Bucky headed off, she broke off too, going after half a dozen Nazis who were heading towards the factory,” Falsworth told him. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”_

_Steve didn’t say anything, but turned on his heel and headed off towards the factory._

_“Steve, where’re you going?” Bucky called out after him._

_“Going to find Natasha, just stay here. Make sure everything’s ready to go when I get back,” he called over his shoulder._

_“Wait, Steve—”_

_Before Bucky could finish, at the back end of town an explosion ripped through the air, causing everyone to flinch and duck. Steve stumbled back as well, eyes going wide as he realized that the explosion had come from the factory. With hardly a second thought he darted off towards the factory, praying that he wouldn’t have to lay Natasha down with the dead._

_-:-_

_When Natasha reached the metal factory she realized that maybe running off without some back-up wasn’t such a good idea. Taking on six guys by herself was nothing; she’d taken on more than that at once before. The problem was that the Nazi soldiers knew all the little nooks and crannies in and around the factory. She didn’t. But Steve and Bucky had gone after a group of Nazis and the other Commandos and soldiers had been busy. So when she’d seen the group of German soldiers heading off towards the metal factory, she’d done the right thing and gone after them._

_She’d started off fine on her own, like usual. She’d gone in through a side door, searching the ground level first. It was a fairly small factory, only about 200 feet long and 100 feet wide. The ceiling was also close to 100 feet over her head, with a few catwalks stretched out across the width about half way up the height of the building. There was still some larger equipment and some crates and boxes left on the ground floor, but otherwise everything else had been cleared out already._

_She skirted her way around a couple barrels of fuel for the machines, following the chatter of voices she could hear echoing in the air. She stopped behind one of the cluster of machines left, the spot giving her the perfect view of the soldiers she’d followed. They were rummaging through a couple crates, scrambling, looking nervous. They were talking quietly in German, voices too low for Natasha to make out what they were saying. Then, one of them, looking more towards the back than the others, shouted and went behind a larger group of crates. Seconds later Natasha heard screaming that definitely wasn’t from the German soldier. She tensed, watching as a moment later the soldier dragged out a woman and a young boy._

_“Bekommen die anderen!” he shouted to his fellow soldiers._ Get the others, _she translated in her head._

 _She hated waiting for the soldiers to grab the other civilians but she had to see how many were in danger. It seemed like forever, the factory filled only with shouts in German and the cries of the townspeople in the Nazis’ clutches. Natasha watched as the other soldiers rounded up an elderly man and kids. The rest were kids. Clearly not all belonging to the woman._ Orphans, _she thought, her heart crawling into her throat right before she swallowed it down again. The Nazi soldiers rounded them all up in a circle, the woman and the elderly man placing themselves in front of the children._

_Natasha didn’t even wait for the first Nazi to cock his gun before leaping out and attacking them. They reached for their guns after she’d already taken down two of them. She charged at a third, twisting her body to duck out of his reach as he moved to punch her. She kicked out his knees, bending him backwards as he fell. Then, in one swift move she broke his neck and he crumpled to the ground. She twisted his gun out of his lifeless grasp and effectively shot the fourth and fifth soldiers right in between the eyes, blood spattering out and their bodies dropping like rocks to the hard floor below._

_She rose, turning towards the last soldier. He had his gun aimed at the cowering children. He met Natasha’s gaze steadily. She shook her head slowly, warning him against shooting any of the civilians. He wouldn’t be able to. The second his finger so much as twitched against the trigger she would shoot him down. The Nazi soldier seemed to understand this as well. He paused and then grinned._

_“Wenn ich sterbe, wir alle sterben,” he said loudly._

_Natasha barely had time to process his words—if I die, we all die—before he was dropping his gun and then swiftly reaching for a grenade on his belt. Momentarily frozen, Natasha watched as he pulled the pin and tossed it towards the barrels of fuel. That kicked her into action and she shot him, darting over to the civilians before his body had even hit the ground. Natasha had just barely gotten them all behind the nearest piece of machinery before the grenade exploded against the fuel barrels, turning the factory into a ball of fire._

_Heat seated against Natasha’s body. She gritted her teeth, shielding the little boy closest to her. When the initial flames died down, she jumped up right away, gesturing to the woman and the elderly man._

_“Come on,” she said quickly, not sure if any of them spoke English. She clenched her jaw. Of all the languages she spoke, Polish was not one of them and at the moment it was truly inconvenient. But the woman and the old man both nodded, seeming to understand her tone if not her words. The woman spoke a few words in Polish to kids and they all got up quickly, understanding the gravity of the situation._

_The adults of the group started leading the kids towards the opposite wall, a different way than Natasha had come in. she figured they knew the factory better than she did. Looking over her shoulder as they made their way to the exit Natasha noticed that the fire wasn’t too bad, but it was uncontrolled and it would only get worse. They had to get out now._

_But that’s when she heard the chatter of a machine gun. Bullets sprayed the crate next to her, sending splinters of wood dancing through the air. A couple of the kids screamed but a quick look at them told her it was from fear and not from being shot._

_“Go! GO!” she shouted at the woman and old man, not caring if they could understand what she was saying. Either way, the message got across and they kept low, leading the kids out of the building._

_Natasha swiveled her head upwards, eyeing the shooter on one of the catwalks. A quick scan told her he wasn’t the only one up there, either. There were at least two others up there that she could see and possibly more in the building. Ignoring that thought, she moved back towards the door she’d come in by, remembering seeing a staircase there. She took the long way around, avoiding the fire. There were a few more shots from the machine gun, but she stayed low, avoiding them._

_She made it to the stairs. About halfway up she turned to see machine-gun guy getting ready to fire again. She raised the gun she’d stolen from the Nazi soldier earlier and fired her own shot. The bullet hit the Nazi in the leg. He howled, dropping his gun. Natasha used the opportunity to dart the rest of the way up the staircase and finish him off._

_Natasha charged across the catwalk towards the next Nazi. He lifted his gun and fired just as she dropped her body down low, swinging out a leg and knocking him off balance. He fell hard, the top half of his body stretching out over the edge of the catwalk. He scrambled for the railing, but with the assistance of gravity and a little nudge from her, he toppled the rest of the way, screaming as he fell into the growing fire and amount of debris below. Natasha leapt to her feet as another Nazi soldier came her way. She tensed, waiting till he was close enough before lunging at him. She wrapped an arm around his neck, twisting him around before yanking his head back roughly by his hair. She grabbed the knife he’d been planning on attacking her with from his hand and swept it across his throat in one deft move, blood spurting out against her face and neck, droplets speckling her lips._

_His body dropped and she continued to make her way across the catwalk, towards the door on the other end of the catwalk that led out of the factory. There was an explosion from below, Natasha’s hands shooting out to grab the railings on either side to balance herself. The flames were getting higher and the sweat was beginning to drip down her face, the salt mingling with the taste of copper in her mouth. She’d almost made it to the end of the catwalk and the door that would lead her down and out of the building when the sound of footsteps alerted her to the presence of more enemy soldiers._

_“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, wishing she hadn’t been right in guessing that there were other Nazis in the building._

_She spun around, using the momentum of her body to even more forcefully throw the bloody knife still in her hand. It hit one of the Germans, sinking into his chest. He collapsed with hardly a sound, gun clattering from his hand. Two more came at her, guns raised._

_They started firing, and though Natasha managed to dodge the first few shots, the catwalks were only four or five feet wide. Another explosion shook the whole room from below, startling them all momentarily. Natasha used the seconds given to her and got close enough to actually fight them. The closest man was crouched low, giving her the perfect opportunity to deliver a powerful kick to his jaw and he fell back, surely seeing stars._

_The other Nazi, a fairly big man, had recovered from the explosion more quickly and, as she turned to face him, his fist connected with her jaw, her head snapping to the side, blood bursting against her tongue as her teeth connected with the inside of her mouth. She threw up an arm to block him as he moved to punch her again. His face was twisted into a cruel smile, his dark eyes glinting with nothing but maliciousness._

_“Fraulein,” he teased._

_He pressed on, attacking her with as much vigor as she was using to defend herself. He threw out an arm towards her and she spun under it, hoping to get some leverage by attacking him from behind. Then she heard a bang and she barely had time to register that the other man had shaken off his unconsciousness. She cried out and stumbled, the bullet ripping through her left side, white hot like the flames below them._

_Natasha didn’t even have time to inspect the damage before the Nazi with the evil smile was rounding on her, delivering a kick to her abdomen. She exhaled sharply, the air coming out in a rush. The guy behind her fired again, clipping the outside of her left hip. She gritted her teeth, pushing past the pain, ignoring the blood she could feel leaking from her wounds. She ducked under another attempted punch from the man in front of her, pulling a knife out from her belt at the same time. Leaping back, she turned and plunged the knife into the chest of the man with the gun, who had gotten up right behind her, ready to finish her off. Natasha clenched her jaw, twisting the knife, watching the light die from his eyes, before maneuvering her way behind his body and shoving it at his companion, ripping the knife out from between his ribs as she did so. Evil Grin guy just shoved away his companion’s heavy body, sending the man toppling over the railing and into the inferno._

_Natasha gripped her knife in her hand, set in a crouch, waiting for the Nazi to come after her. He just smiled that sickening smile and watched her, waiting. She was breathing hard now, and she knew she was losing blood. And fast. The ever-growing flames and heat and smoke weren’t helping either. There was a huge crash and sparks and smoke billowed out. Natasha didn’t dare look, didn’t dare take her eyes off the enemy, but it had sounded like one of the beams in the ceiling and broken away due to the fire and crashed below. The building was falling apart, and unless she could take care of this guy soon, they were both going to die an unpleasant, fiery death._

_“Komm schon, was wartest du noch?” she asked in German._ Come on, what are you waiting for? _His smile grew and he clenched his fists together gleefully._

_Then, just as it looked like he was going to attack, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun of his own._

_“Shit,” Natasha muttered as his finger tightened on the trigger. She ran at him, taking him by surprise and dodging the shot. Luckily they weren’t separated by a whole lot of space and just as he squeezed the trigger again, she caught his arm and the shot fired up into the ceiling. She twisted his arm fast, causing him to howl out briefly in pain before dropping his weapon. Natasha struck out with her other arm, aiming for his throat with the knife she still held, but he caught her arm. They were locked together, his face screwed up with pure hatred as she tried to drive the knife down towards the fragile flesh of his throat._

_Before either of them could get the upper hand another beam fell from the ceiling, crashing into the catwalk right behind the man. They let go of each other as the catwalk broke in two, pieces of grated metal walkway ripping apart with a scream and falling down into the flames. Natasha lost her footing momentarily trying to steady herself as the catwalk swayed dangerously, only half supported now. The Nazi soldier started to recover and Natasha kicked him back. He teetered dangerously on the edge for a moment._ God, this guy would just not give up _._

_Natasha started backing up. There was only one way out of this place now, and she was blocking it from him. He didn’t look very happy about it either as he stalked towards her. She gripped her knife, trying to focus. The bullet wound in her side had gone through and through, she was pretty sure, but that didn’t mean it was exactly bleeding less. Her side was soaked through, and she wouldn’t be on her feet much longer unless she could stop the bleeding._

_Out of her peripheral, Natasha could see the walls behind her meaning she was almost to the door. A plan forming in her mind, she tucked her knife back into her belt. If she could just get the upper hand for one second, she could get to the door. Apparently the German wasn’t too keen on that idea. He charged at her screaming bloody murder. Natasha was ready, though, and she side-stepped as much as the narrow catwalk would allow her. She braced her hands against the railing and struck out with both feet, landing a solid kick to the man’s chest as he turned to face her. He toppled back into the opposite railing hard enough that the catwalk shook. And then it did more than just shake as a couple of the support rails that held the catwalk to the ceiling snapped with the creaking of metal._

_The catwalk lurched to the side, and if Natasha hadn’t been holding onto the railing, she would’ve fallen into the fire. She cried out as the motion wracked her body. She looked over her shoulder to see that the Nazi was still hanging on as well. “Stubborn bastard, just don’t know how to die, do you?” she muttered, carefully easing her way to the right closer to the platform where the door was._

_It was slow going, torturously so. The catwalk continued to move, and Natasha could only wonder how long she had till the rest of it snapped away. Her hands were slicked with sweat and blood, and it was extremely difficult trying to keep her grip on the metal railing. Finally, after an eternity, she was right next to the platform. She gripped the edge with one hand, her fingers sliding into the metal grating for better purchase. She was just about to pull herself up when a hand grabbed her from below._

_“Wenn ich sterbe, du kommst mit mir!” the German screamed from beneath her._

If I die, you’re coming with me _, she translated in her head as he wrenched on her leg, using her to pull himself up. Or her down. It was hard to tell which, and it took everything she had left to keep her grip on the platform as her other hand started to slip from the catwalk railing. She screamed in defiance, striking out with her free leg, her boot connecting with his face with a bloody crunch. She didn’t even have to look to see that she’d broken his nose. The combined sound of cartilage being crushed and the string of curses in German were enough. She repeatedly kicked, risking her own grip to get him off her._

_Finally, with as much strength as she could muster, she slammed her boot down against his face. His hand was suddenly gone from around her leg and all she heard were the brief seconds of his echoing screams before there was nothing but the sound of fire crackling and the groaning of the building shuddering apart around her. Natasha couldn’t do more than cling to her spot for a second. She was breathing hard, not enough oxygen making it into her lungs with the fire eating it up around her. Black spots blinked in and out of her vision, her injuries on fire._

_Knowing she couldn’t stay there, Natasha shuffled all the way over to the platform, grabbing it with her other hand and hauling herself up with some minor difficulty. She collapsed, trying to catch her breath despite the smoky air. She hadn’t even registered that the door to her freedom had opened until Steve’s face came into focus right in front of her._

_“Natasha?” his voice sounded from very far away. “Natasha, can you hear me?”_

_Natasha nodded, unable to speak past the blood in her mouth and the lack of air in her lungs._

_“Come on, I got you,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around her and helping her stand._

_She lifted an arm around his broad shoulders for extra support as they quickly shuffled out of the building that was now quickly burning closer and closer to the ground._

_“Is everyone safe?” she asked when she could find her voice again._

_“Everyone that’s still alive, yes,” Steve replied quickly, and Natasha noticed a crease of worry right in between his eyes._

_“I’m fine, you know,” she told him as they broke out into the gray light of day, Natasha sucking in mouthfuls of clean air as they did so._

_“I should’ve been there with you,” Steve replied curtly, not looking at her. But his face softened a moment later and she knew he wasn’t really upset with her. Maybe mad at himself. But really she knew he was just worried about her. No amount of her reassurance would remedy that. It was in his nature to worry._

_“It’s not your fault,” she told him quietly, pressing a hand to her side with a wince._

_“You could’ve died.”_

_They were almost to the front of the town where their trucks were waiting. Natasha wished they were closer and farther away at the same time._

_“Yeah,” she murmured in agreement. “I almost_ did _. But I’m okay. I_ will _be okay. I know you hate it when I say it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before but,” she paused, sucking in a breath, ignoring his worried glance as she pressed harder against her side. “I_ have _been through a lot worse. That’s not saying much, I know, since I don’t talk a—” she hissed in pain, ignoring Steve’s look of concern and taking a breath before starting again, “about my past a whole lot, but I…I just need you to trust me, okay?”_

_Steve was quiet for several steps, Natasha’s getting clumsier by the second, Steve’s arm wrapping around her tighter as she faltered._

_“I do trust you,” Steve admitted quietly, eyes straight ahead. “And I know that you can take a lot, but…but it doesn’t mean you should have to.”_

_“We’re at war, Steve. Bleeding is part of the job description.”_

_“Well, like you said, I don’t know a lot about your past—hardly anything, actually—but from what I’ve gathered…it sounds like you’ve been bleeding for a long time.”_

_Natasha didn’t know what to say that. He wasn’t wrong. Her silence was further proof of that. Before she could think of something to tell him, to reassure him, they were close enough to the trucks that the others spotted them. Bucky raced up to meet them first. All he had to do was glance at her to know she was hurt. Natasha saw his eyes darken, his jaw visibly clenching._

_“Help me get her into the truck, Buck,” Steve said, Bucky already at her other side before Steve finished speaking._

_Half an hour later they were driving away. They’d loaded the civilians up into the trucks the Nazis had been planning on using and were taking them back to base until they could be relocated somewhere safe. Natasha was sitting in between Steve and Bucky, quickly patched up until they got back to base. Steve’s words continued to play over and over in her head,_ it sounds like you’ve been bleeding for a long time _. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to push down how shaken up she was about how close to the truth Steve was by having said that. It was unsettling sometimes, how easily he could to see through her. He couldn’t always tell when she was lying—he was too terrible of a liar and she was too good of one for that—but he could just look at her and she would unravel at his fingertips whether she wanted to or not. He probably had no idea he was doing it, either. It was just…_ him _. Just by being Steve she could feel the walls she’d spent her whole life building weakening, the capstone to her structure getting looser by the day._

 _Impulsively, Natasha reached for his hand. She continued to stare at the floor, but she could feel his gaze turn on her in surprise. He continued to hold her hand in his, though. She couldn’t think of anything to say to reassure him—reassure him about the people they’d lost that day, her past, about her injuries, about_ everything _—but this was as close as she was going to get for now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will really, really try to update soon! I think we're nearing the end of the flashbacks, and stuff is about to get real exciting here soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Been Bleeding for a Long TIme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know I said that it wouldn't be another 2 months before I updated. Well, it's been another 2 months and I'm really, really sorry. I know a lot of you have been concerned that I'm giving up on this story, but I promise that is not the case. I just haven't been writing as much as I would like to, and this story has been giving me so much writer's block. I'm starting to come out of the writer's block though, and hopefully I will be able to update a little more frequently again.
> 
> This chapter addresses a lot of what Natasha went through in the Red Room. I'm incorporating some elements from the comics (all info I've gotten from research). There's not a ton of information on either Ivan Petrovich or Yuri Brushov, so I took some liberties with them. Also, warnings for general Red Room terribleness. Some very slight hints at non-con, brutal violence, that sort of thing. Also, some stuff is taken from Agent Carter as well. Be safe, guys!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also, sorry for any typos, I'm pretty tired so I don't think the proofreading was as thorough on this chapter.

_“Ow, fuck,” Natasha snapped under her breath as the nurse pulled a stich on her side especially taut._

_She looked up as she heard Bucky cluck his tongue disapprovingly from the chair next to the bed she was sitting on. “That’s not very lady-like Ms. Romanoff,” he chided._

_Natasha gave Bucky a look as the nurse finished putting bandages over her bullet wounds. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Mr. Barnes,” she shot back. “You swear just as much if not more than I do.”_

_“Fair enough,” Bucky chuckled. “But I’m sure you can swear in more than one language, so really, I think you have a bit more of a sailor’s mouth than I do.”_

_Natasha rolled her eyes. “Where’s Steve?”_

_Bucky put a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. “What? Not enjoying my company?”_

_“Oh, you’re a pleasure as always,” she replied sarcastically._

_Bucky just laughed, though, shaking his head. “Trust me, Steve would be here if he could. The Colonel wanted his report right away.”_

_Natasha nodded in understanding._

_“All right,” the nurse cut in, giving Natasha a smile. “We’re all finished here. Lots of bedrest, Ms. Romanoff. You lost quite a bit of blood and your lungs are still a little sensitive due to the smoke inhalation. Let us know if you need anything.”_

_“Thank you,” Natasha told her politely. The nurse dipped her head in acknowledgement, gave Bucky a polite smile on her way out, and then shut the door behind her._

_Natasha looked back at Bucky. He was smiling a little. He had a nasty bruise on his jaw, but was otherwise fine. He tilted his head to the side and examined her, brow furrowed and lips pursed like he was itching to ask her something._

_She sighed and situated herself more comfortably on the bed. “What is it?”_

_He waved his hand dismissively in the air. “It’s nothing.”_

_“Come on, Barnes.”_

_He exhaled sharply. “Okay, well, it’s not really super important. I guess I was just thinking that, no offense, but you kinda look like shit.”_

_“Such a gentleman,” she muttered. “Thanks for pointing that out.”_

_“Well, you asked.”_

_“Is that all you had to tell me?” she snapped._

_“No, that was only part of it,” he said. “I mean obviously you got pretty hurt, but I was just thinking that it could’ve been avoided. I mean, we could’ve just blown the factory, sent those bastards back to hell where they came from. But you went in and tried to take them all out by yourself. Why?”_

_“There were civilians in there,” she replied simply. “I didn’t know that at first, but once I did I couldn’t just leave them there.”_

_Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment, before his face darkened. “It’s war, Natasha. People die all the time. Sometimes we have to sacrifice the few to save the many.”_

_“They were orphans, James,” she said quietly, firmly, meeting his gaze. “They were just kids. This war isn’t their fault, and they’re probably orphans_ because _of this goddamn war.”_

_“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.”_

_“It’s okay,” she told him. “You’re not wrong. People, civilians, they get caught in the crosshairs during war. It happens and people die. A lot more often than they should, and often times it gets brushed off. Casualties of war._ Believe me, _I know that it happens. And maybe it would’ve been easier to just blow the place. But that’s not what Steve would’ve done. He would have saved those people.”_

_Bucky stared at her for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. “God, he’s rubbed off on you.”_

_Natasha shrugged and gave Bucky a sideways smile. “I guess so. Clearly he hasn’t had any effect on_ you, _though.”_

 _“Hey, how do you know that_ I’m _not the one who’s rubbed off on_ him _?”_

_She scoffed. “Please. I’ll believe that just as soon as Dum Dum shaves off his mustache and gives his hat to a Nazi.”_

_Bucky pondered that one for a moment before subjecting. “Okay, fair enough. You win that one.”_

_She shook her head and gave him a fond smile. Bucky met her gaze just as warmly before a spark lit up his blue eyes, a giant grin spreading across his face._

_“What?” she asked._

_“You called me James.” Bucky could barely get the sentence out he was smiling so broadly._

_Natasha blinked at him and then smirked. “Well, that’s your name, isn’t it?”_

_“Well, yeah, but everyone just calls me Bucky.”_

_“I’m not everyone,” she replied with a playful smile._

_“No,” Bucky agreed softly, almost to himself. “No you are not.” he paused, considering. “You can call me James. I don’t mind.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Well, it’s you.” He shrugged, then gave her a devious smile, eyes glinting as he leaned closer towards her bed. “Though women usually call me James in a more…_ intimate _setting—”_

_“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, slapping away the hand he reached out towards her. “You just had to ruin the moment didn’t you?”_

_He leaned back and grinned. “It’s part of the Bucky Barnes charm.”_

_“I think you need to rethink your definition of_ charm, _” she replied._

_Bucky laughed. It wasn’t a full body laugh, but it was one of the brightest laughs she’d seen from him. It made her smile. Bucky didn’t seem like the type to laugh out loud often, but he smiled and chuckled quite a bit around her. The only person she’d really seen him truly laugh with was Steve. It made her a little happy that she was higher up on the list too. Despite the fact that she was covered in bandages and they were both exhausted, he seemed incredibly at ease. Enough to grace her with a genuine laugh._

_She would’ve said more, but the door opened and Steve poked his head in. Her eyes immediately went to him, and when he caught her gaze, he stepped fully into the room._

_“Hey,” Steve greeted, rubbing a hand up his arm._

_“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky smiled. “Nat was just telling me how charming I am.”_

_“‘Nat’?” Steve echoed._

_Natasha gave Bucky a look. “Charming?”_

_Bucky looked between the two of them. “You two are no fun, you know that?”_

_“So leave,” Natasha suggested._

_Steve chuckled, and Bucky glowered. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Pick on Bucky.”_

_As he stood to go, though, Natasha could tell he wasn’t really mad. He couldn’t even keep a straight face all the way to the door. He clapped Steve on the back as he went, and then gave Natasha one last smile. “I’ll bring you some dinner later, Nat.”_

_She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep a small smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth._

_Bucky saluted them both and then left, the door shutting softly behind him._

_The room was deafeningly quiet for a moment now that it was just her and Steve. Neither of them moved for several heartbeats, but then Steve was sitting himself down in the chair that Bucky had just vacated. Natasha looked him over as he sat, taking particular note of the white bandage sticking out from underneath his rolled up shirtsleeve._

_“What happened?” she asked, nodding to the bandage._

_Steve looked down, touching the edge of the gauze. “Nothing,” he said, looking back up at her. “Just a bullet graze.”_

_She smiled wryly at him. “And here I was beginning to think that Captain America didn’t bleed.”_

_Steve chuckled, his eyes glittering brightly as he looked at her, a fond smile on his face. His expression faded into something more troubled once he looked her over and all at once seemed to remember how injured she was. Natasha was about to protest, to tell him for the millionth time that she was fine, but he beat her to it._

_“How are you feeling?”_

_Natasha paused, contemplating telling him that she was perfectly fine, even though he hated when she did that. After another second of consideration, she decided to go with the truth. “Kinda shitty, actually. But getting shot will do that to you.”_

_Steve’s frown deepened, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. “Natasha…” he breathed in sharply, “You shouldn’t have gone in there by yourself. You could have—”_

_“Died,” she finished for him, mildly annoyed. “I know. You’ve only told me that a thousand times. But, Steve, I mean I tell you I’m fine and you get upset, I tell you I’m not fine and you get upset. We need a middle ground here. There’s no way to keep me out of danger, so you’re just going to have to deal with it if I get hurt. I told you I was going to see this through, and that’s what I’m going to do, no matter the cost.”_

_Steve nodded slowly, though he was still tense. “I know, I know. I just worry about you.”_

_“Well, then at least tell me that you get this worried about Bucky when he gets shot, because I’m starting to feel like I’m getting special treatment,” she teased._

_Steve gave a tentative smile that quickly widened. “Of course I worry this much over Bucky. There’s a little more whining from him, and a little more of me calling him a dumbass, though.”_

_Natasha laughed quietly._

_“I know you can take care of yourself,” Steve continued softly. “You’re just as capable as any of us out in the field. I shouldn’t overreact so much. I just…care about you, is all. I don’t want to see you—or anyone else—get hurt.”_

_Natasha swallowed, examining his words. She thought that maybe his worry for her went a little deeper than simply_ caring _about her, but she shoved that aside quickly. Shoved it down deep, deep, deep. There was no way that was true, and even if it was, they couldn’t. And yet, wasn’t Steve, and what she felt for him, the whole reason she stayed in the first place?_

_Natasha shook her head, banishing those thoughts, putting her focus back on Steve, who was watching her quietly. She briefly wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see past all of her faults and her history and see her entirely as just Natasha? Or did he see the monster beneath? She bit her lip, fighting back the sudden onslaught of emotion she was feeling._

_“Do you want me to go?” Steve whispered, obviously noticing her internal struggle._

_She quickly shook her head, meeting his eyes. “No. Please stay.”_

_Steve gave a slight nod and settled further into the chair. He looked down at his hands, the silence in the room pressing down on her. She couldn’t get the words he’d said to her out of her mind,_ it sounds like you’ve been bleeding for a long time. _God, if he only knew…she took a deep breath. Then another._

_“Ivan Petrovich,” Natasha said aloud, though it didn’t feel like she had spoken at all._

_Steve’s head shot up and he gave her a confused look. “What?”_

_Natasha didn’t know where she found the strength to keep talking. She wasn’t sure that if she kept going that she would be able to stop. “Ivan Petrovich. He found me after my parents died…there was a fire—”_

_“Natasha, stop,” Steve whispered suddenly, realizing what she was trying to do. He leaned forward in his chair, his blue eyes wide. “You don’t—you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to tell me this.”_

_Despite feeling like there wasn’t enough air in her lungs, Natasha met his gaze. “I want to.”_

_Steve’s brow was creased, his mouth parted just the slightest. She saw him swallow, his throat bobbing up and down. His only signal for her to continue was to scoot his chair closer to the bed. Natasha shifted on the bed, crossing her legs, despite the pain lancing through her side. She shoved her hands into her lap where Steve couldn’t see them shake._

_Natasha started again, not looking directly at Steve though she could feel his gaze on her face. “I don’t remember much about the fire.” It was a lie, but there was no way she could describe to Steve the heat against her small body, how the whole world was reduced to nothing but yellow and orange and black smoke and the screams of her parents as their flesh sizzled and burned and fell away from their skeletons, not long after they shoved her towards the window that Ivan would pull her out of. Part of her figured that Steve knew she was lying, but he didn’t push, didn’t say anything at all._

_“Ivan saved me from the fire. He took me in, took care of me. For a while anyway.” Natasha couldn’t seem to get her voice above a whisper. “He was a good man, really. Not the best. But he meant well. He just…he happened to know a lot of people who weren’t so great._

_“Ivan was the one who brought me to the Red Room, to the Black Widow program. He never said anything to me about it, and I haven’t seen him since he brought me there. I don’t know why he did it…I don’t know if it was for money, a favor to the men who ran it, or if he just didn’t want the burden of taking care of a child.”_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve’s jaw clench, saw his eyes darken and his forehead crease with anger and worry._

_“They brainwashed me,” and yet the memories of the fire had remained, burning inside of her just like the fire itself had burned against her skin, “trained me, made me completely loyal and willing. There were twenty-eight of us…they taught us about other cultures and languages, so we could blend in wherever our missions sent us. They handcuffed us to our beds at night…” Natasha rubbed the wrist that she had spent a majority of her life shackling. Cold metal bracelet chained to an even colder metal bedframe._

_She barely saw Steve move before he was reaching for the very wrist she was rubbing. She looked at him, only able to watch as he leaned forward and gently lifted her hand out of her lap, his fingers soft as they touched her skin and carefully circled her wrist. He met her eyes and he let his hand slowly move down so their hands were intertwined._

_The second she felt tears spring in her eyes, she ducked her head so he couldn’t see. She almost laughed about it. She was baring her battered soul, her past to him and she was embarrassed about a few tears._

_“Um,” she said, trying to find the words that were so desperate to escape the cage of her body. “We, the twenty eight of us, we trained together…and once we reached a certain age, the weak ones were weeded out. We had to, um…_ kill _each other….” Steve’s hand tightened around hers. “We would spar and the winner would have to break the loser’s neck. It was fast, efficient. That way the trainers wouldn’t have to get their hands together and we could practice killing. It also made having friends out of the question, because chances were you would have to kill them. The Red Room was as much about our training to be the best assassins as possible as much as it was about our own survival. If you didn’t do well it training, you clearly weren’t the best and you were punished—or worse—for it.”_

 _“Were you…” Steve paused, struggling to get the words out. “Were you ever…_ punished _?”_

_Natasha almost smiled at him. Almost. He was still so naïve sometimes that it tore her apart inside._

_“Yes,” she answered simply. “Of course. And they were not pleasant.”_

_There had been one day in training where she and a couple other girls hadn’t done very well, and the trainers had decided to give them a second chance. They ended up having to hang off the edge of the tallest building at the facility. There had been four of them and only Natasha had made it. Natasha could still remember the screams of the other girls as they fell, and then the sickening crack of their skulls against the pavement below. She didn’t even have to look down to know that their bodies had been utterly and completely broken._

_“Yuri Brushov,” Natasha started again, the name sending chills up and down her spine. “H-he was one of the men in charge of the Red Room. He oversaw all of our training. He was…_ is _…ruthless. Cold-hearted. He doled out a lot of the punishments himself.” now it was her turn to tighten her grip around Steve’s hand. “He, um…I was one of his favorites. I guess I was flattered at the time. I wanted to be the best, I wanted to be the Black Widow. And Brushov had a way of making sure that I and the others were completely loyal to him.”_

 _Though she had been with Steve and the Allies for months now, she could still feel Brushov’s cold, scarred hands on her, touching her gently before lifting his hand and cracking it across her face. His deep voice, whispering in her ear, before he kicked out the back of her knees and kicked her so hard her ribs bent and cracked._ Do you want me to stop, Natalia? _She hadn’t dared to nod, because she knew that would only end with more blood in her mouth._ You want to be the spider, Natalia? The Black Widow does not give in, does not give up. She only kills. _He wrenched her head back by her hair, his other hand brushing up and down the column of her throat, sticky with her own blood._ You are mine, Natalia. You are no one and nothing. Nothing but the spider. And you are mine. _His hand closed around her throat and she couldn’t breathe._

_“Natasha. Natasha,” Steve’s worried voice snapped her back, tearing her from her memories. She looked down to see her hand was white around Steve’s. It must have hurt, even for him. She slowly released her fingers, tucking her hand back into her lap, trying to get her breathing under control._

_“I’m sorry,” she gasped, and before Steve could soothe her, she spoke again. “I was the best. I became the Black Widow and Brushov’s loyal attack dog. I know you’ve always wondered why I was so adamant about following my orders and staying on base when you first met me. I stayed in my position because Brushov directly ordered me to. I was…I still am afraid of him. I didn’t want to disobey, and if you hadn’t showed up, I would have gotten blown to bits for that loyalty. He killed all the new recruits and he almost killed me.”_

_“And now he’s gone,” Steve said softly._

_Natasha nodded. “He’s still out there. And that’s why I didn’t want you to send me back to Russia right away. I’m free of him and I’m just hoping the bastard will be long dead before I ever have to see him again.”_

_Steve slowly reached forward and tilted her chin up so she was looking at him again. “I won’t send you back there. I promise. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”_

_His eyes were so open, voice so earnest that for a second Natasha believed him. But the moment passed quickly because even though she was sure that Steve would stop at nothing to protect her, she knew Brushov and she knew that once he found out she was alive—if he didn’t know already—that he would also stop at nothing to get her back in his clutches._

_But she didn’t tell Steve that. She didn’t want him worrying about her any more than he already was, so she just nodded._

_Steve looked pensive, dropping his hands into his lap. “Why did you tell me all this?”_

_“I trust you,” she replied, to which his eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. For a brief moment, a fraction of a second, she considered telling him about the graduation ceremony, but the words to describe it caught in her throat. She could still feel the cold metal tools against her skin, could still feel one of the trainers shoving her down onto the table and wheeling her away, as images of girls past flashed by._

_“Besides,” Natasha continued, trying to push away all thoughts of her graduation ceremony. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said, about how I’ve been bleeding for a long time. The truth is I have. I’ve been through a lot, but I can take it.”_

_“You shouldn’t have to.”_

_“Maybe not, but someone has to, right?”_

_Steve was about to say more, but Natasha just barely caught Bucky leaving out of the corner of her eye before the door was slamming shut. She didn’t even have to go after Bucky and ask him to know that he’d been standing there pretty much the whole time. On the table by the door sat the dinner Bucky said he would bring her._

 


	16. Snapshots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And not after two months this time!
> 
> This is a short chapter, leading into the events of the next one and what's gonna happen.
> 
> Slight warning for just a small Red Room flashback.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Mid-June, 1944_

_A flash of pain erupted in Natasha’s side as she was flung hard against a tree, her still-a-little-tender side aching as she slumped to the ground and the Hydra agent advanced on her. She put a hand to her side briefly, before lifting her gun and shooting the man before he could get any closer. Brushing hair out of her face, she got to her feet and darted between the trees, dropping Hydra soldiers as she made her way back to the other Howling Commandos._

_Despite how long she’d been fighting on battlefields, she could never get used to how loud gunfire could get. All she seemed to hear was the chatter of Bucky’s submachine gun, the loud blasts of the Hydra weapons, and the even bigger explosions of grenades and other explosives._

_Natasha used the sound of gunfire, the taint of blood in the air and went to the place inside her where she was nothing but a weapon. She cut down any Hydra soldier that came her way, weather it was by bullet, blade, or her own two hands. She was a blur on the battlefield, feeling nothing except the spray of blood on her skin and the dirt under her fingernails._

_“Natasha, down!” Steve shouted and she barely had time to process the words before she was diving down, hands over her head for protection, the earth exploding apart a few feet behind her. Dirt and grass and other debris rained down on her. She turned to see a Hydra tank rolling through the woods, its pulse cannon glowing blue with the Tesseract energy. She stumbled to her feet seconds before Steve raced up to her and grabbed her around the waist, pulling his shield over both their heads seconds before another blast hit._

_“We gotta stop that tank,” Steve gasped once the dust had cleared._

_Natasha nodded in agreement, as they moved a little farther away so as to avoid the tank’s blasts._

_“I’ll cover you,” she said._

_Steve just met her eyes before darting off towards the tank, making a semi-wide circle around it as she followed, shooting down anyone who came near. Out of the corner of her eye she could Steve, absolutely unstoppable as he threw his shield, ricocheting it off trees and the bodies of Hydra soldiers, clearing his own path to the tank._

_Once Steve reached the hulking vehicle, Natasha saw Dernier toss Steve an explosive. With effortless grace, Steve jumped up on the tank, knocking out the guy manning the back with one deft stroke of his shield. He popped open the hatch, threw the device in, and leaped from the vehicle like he’d done the same move a thousand times. Which, at this point, he probably had. He’d taken out dozens of tanks before this one, working with his other Commandos effortlessly. Steve ran back towards her and they ducked behind a large tree right before there was an explosion, heat searing the air, sparks and ash and earth raining down._

_“Nice job,” she breathed._

_Steve gave her a somewhat devilish smile, adrenaline glittering in his blue eyes. “We’re not done yet.”_

_He charged back out into battle and Natasha had no choice but to follow him._

_-:-_

_End of June, 1944_

_It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, but it went wrong pretty quickly._

_Natasha and Bucky had been sent out from base to scout the woods a ways out from base. They’d drove on motorcycles part of the way, before taking a break and walking. It seemed to be mostly clear until Bucky spotted Nazi soldiers making their way through the forest. He’d moved quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her down along the sloped bank of a small creek, wedging themselves in between the roots of a large tree and some bushes._

_“How many of them did you see?” Natasha whispered as they pressed next to each other, suing the full bushes for cover from the passing soldiers._

_“At least two companies,” Bucky breathed. “Maybe three. Either way, that’s way too many Nazis for us to take on. And they’re blocking our way back to the bikes. We’ll just have to wait them out.”_

_Natasha nodded, staying quiet as the sound of hundreds of footsteps and the roll of vehicles passed on the bank above them.  It sounded like the soldiers were almost past them, when the marching stopped abruptly and shouts in German echoed in the sudden silence. Natasha barely had time to process the words before Bucky was muttering beside her._

_“Shit,” he said, voice low._

_“They’re stopping,” she whispered, even though Bucky already knew what had been said._

_“I’m gonna take a look,” he said after a moment, slowly moving up the little slope to look over the bank. A few moments later, he slid down next to her again, his eyes wide, body tight. “Shit._ Shit _.”_

_“What is it?” she hissed._

_“They’re camping here for the night,” he choked out. “I heard a couple of soldiers say so. And they’re only ten yards up the road, so there’s no way we can make it past them.”_

_“They’ve got the high ground,” Natasha agreed. “Even if we made our way down the creek and then up and around, they would see us before we could even get to the ‘up and around’ part.”_

_Bucky nodded, breathing out slowly._

_Natasha sucked in a breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She squeezed Bucky’s arm for a brief moment before looking him in the eyes._

_“We’ll wait them out,” she told him quietly, trying not to think about how close the sound of Nazi soldiers was. “We’ll wait and see if they leave in the morning. If they don’t—”_

_“We’ll make a run for it,” Bucky finished for her. The way he looked at her, just for a moment, reminded her that he’d most likely heard everything she’d told Steve about her past. But Bucky hadn’t talked about it, and neither had she, and now was_ definitely _not the time to bring it up. So she just nodded slowly, tucking herself farther into the bushes. Bucky squeezed in tighter too, until they were both about as comfortable as they could be. They both kept their pistols on their laps, ready to fight their way out if need be._

_And they sat like that all night, both of them offering multiple times to take watch, but neither of them accepting, because there was no way Natasha would be able to sleep peacefully, and she knew Bucky felt the same. They hardly dared to breathe loudly, especially when the Nazi soldiers patrolled the perimeter of their camp. The laughter from the soldiers was thunderously loud in the quiet of the night._

_Natasha and Bucky didn’t speak the entire night, just kept close and kept their hands on their guns. And yet, despite the silence between them, Natasha had never felt closer to Bucky than she did that night, with the threat of death looming over their heads like the moon above, all while the crickets sang as if they weren’t laying in their coffin of roots and bushes._

_They made it through the night, though, and only when the Nazi soldiers had long since passed on, did Natasha feel like she could breathe again. She and Bucky climbed out of their little hole, and hiked back to their bikes to find (a very worried) Steve waiting for them._

_-:-_

_Early July, 1944_

_All of the Howling Commandos—and everyone else on base for that matter—knew that they’d gotten the special deserts delivered, not just for the 4 th, but for Steve’s birthday as well, though nobody said anything. Mostly because only a select few were supposed to know that _Captain fucking America’s _birthday was on the goddamn Fourth of July. Steve didn’t flaunt his birthday, and Natasha completely understood why. That didn’t keep her from mocking him about it, or smuggling half the chocolate they’d gotten into her room. They rarely got sweets on base and there were plenty of leftovers from Steve’s birthday yesterday, so she was going to take full advantage._

_“Mm,” Peggy hummed from the chair next to Natasha’s bunk, “I haven’t had chocolate in so long.”_

_“Me neither. I can’t even_ remember _the last time I had chocolate,” Natasha agreed._

_There were still some loud, drunken celebrations for the fourth going on in the mess hall, and Natasha and Peggy had snuck off to get away from the noise, as well as to dig into the stash of chocolate Natasha had hoarded away. It was probably way more sweets than she needed, but in the Red Room, there were nights they wouldn’t serve dinner, especially if they had done something to upset the trainers, so it had been good to learn to tuck away extra food. Otherwise, without eating, they weren’t strong enough for the training. Natasha remembered one such girl, who had done poorly several nights in a row and had been denied dinner. She hadn’t stashed any food away, and she’d been too weak in training one morning. Natasha still remembered the sound of the girl’s neck as it was snapped by another trainee._

_“Natasha?” Peggy’s voice rang out, snapping Natasha out of the memory._

_Natasha met Peggy’s eyes, noting the worried crease in her friend’s brow. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Just, um…old memories.”_

_Peggy nodded in understanding. Natasha knew that, despite having told Peggy next to nothing about her past, that Peggy somehow just_ knew _that Natasha had been through hell and back in the Red Room. She didn’t know if it was some woman’s instinct thing or if Peggy was really just that good or both, but it relieved her to know that she didn’t really need to use words to convey to Peggy that her past was not a good one._

_“How’s your side?” Peggy asked, changing the subject so Natasha didn’t have to (another thing that Natasha was grateful for)._

_Natasha lifted up the hem of her shirt to examine the paling scars on her side and hip. They were still the tiniest bit tender, but improving every day. “Much better,” she said, dropping her shirt back down and smiling up at her friend._

_“What about your shoulder?” Natasha asked in return._

_Peggy gave a little laugh and rolled her left shoulder. She and Peggy had been out on mission just two days ago, and Peggy had gotten knocked, rather roughly, into the side of a building._

_“It’s fine,” Peggy said. “A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”_

_“I don’t doubt that,” Natasha grinned._

_After that, they went a snagged a bottle of whiskey from Dum Dum’s not-so-hidden personal stash and high-tailed it back to Natasha’s room, where they drank and talked and laughed till they eventually fell asleep in the same bunk, much to the shock and glee of the Commandos when they found them bunked up together in the morning._

_-:-_

_Early July, 1944_

_Steve was just about to head to the Colonel’s office when Bucky knocked, and without waiting for Steve’s response, opened the door and poked his head in, looking excited and a little breathless._

_“What is it?” Steve asked._

_“We’ve got a lead,” Bucky said. “Something that can help us find Arnim Zola.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> Anyway, I know they don't find Zola till like January/winter-time of '45, but just wait and see :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, sorry about any typos, it's late.


	17. Glad You're Not Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Nice long chapter for you guys! I don't think there's any warnings for this chapter, aside from violence and an excessive amount of swearing (because it's fun to write Steve and Bucky as the actual foul-mouthed little shits they are).
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. excuse any typos, it is late and my brain is shutting down

_Steve and Bucky walked quickly through the halls of the base, not talking other than for Bucky to say the Colonel was waiting for them in the command center. When they got there, Steve saw that Natasha and Peggy were both already there, as well as his Howling Commandos. Steve looked at them in turn, his gaze lingering on Natasha for just a moment longer than the others. She met his eyes, her face lined with grim determination. He could relate. He’d told her all about Zola and what the Hydra scientist had done to Bucky, and her features only reflected what he was feeling inside._

_Steve straightened, looking over the large map they had laid out, with its dwindling amount of little red flags to represent Hydra bases. “What do we have?” he looked at the Colonel as he asked, but Phillips just shrugged and directed his gaze towards Peggy, Bucky, and the other Commandos._

_“Well,” Peggy started, her brow creasing just the slightest, “it’s not so much a lead on Zola himself, but a lead on how we can find him.”_

_Steve waited for more details._

_“Gabe,” Peggy prompted, looking over at Gabe Jones._

_“Right,” the Commando said. “Well, I’ve been working in between missions on trying to pick up Hydra’s radio signals. I’ve only gotten short bursts so far, but I’m getting close. And this morning I was listening and they were talking about the trains they use and they mentioned Zola.”_

_Steve stood straighter somehow, eager, anxious. They could get Zola. They could finally get that monster, the one that hurt Bucky, and he could lead them right to Red Skull and they could end this all. Steve forced himself to focus, though, because it wasn’t like they already had Zola in custody. They still had to catch him. But at least now they had a lead._

_“From what I gathered, Zola wasn’t on the train they were using anymore, but it seems like the doc uses them often enough that if we could get intel on the trains and their movement we could actually catch the bastard.” Gabe finished, a small smile on his face._

_“Good work, Gabe,” Steve said._

_“We found a small Hydra outpost along the train tracks they’ve been using,” Bucky added._

_Peggy nodded. “It was so small we almost missed it. But we double-checked, and the outpost is the most likely spot for them to be keeping any intel they have on their movements.”_

_“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow._

_Bucky gave him a knowing look. “But it’s in the heart of enemy territory. There’s not only a heavy concentration of Hydra soldiers, but there’s Nazis in the area too.”_

_Steve nodded, contemplating. They could send in a larger team and they would stand a greater chance against the enemy forces. On the other hand, a bigger team would make it hard to have the element of surprise, and the Hydra agents could destroy intel they had if they were alerted to their presence soon enough._

_A smaller team would be able to sneak in, have a better chance of getting the intel they needed, but it would also be a hell of a lot more dangerous._

_He told his team as much. The Commandos nodded, considering their options. Colonel Phillips just gave him a look that said,_ your team, your call.

_Before Steve could open his mouth, Natasha spoke up._

_“I can go,” she announced, everyone turning to her._

_“You mean…_ lead _a team to go?” Steve asked, even though he had a feeling what she really meant._

_She gave him a look that told him as much. “No, I mean I can go. By myself.”_

_Steve frowned, and the air in the room turned tense, heavy. A pin drop would’ve made the room explode. He could feel everyone’s gazes on him and Natasha._

_“It’s too dangerous,” he said at last._

_A flash of defiance sparked up her green eyes, her features hardening almost imperceptibly, and he could suddenly see the assassin in her very clearly, the very woman that had nearly killed him the first time they met. The woman that had been broken and beaten, molded like a piece of metal into the weapon she was. He thought a lot about the things she’d told him about her past, thought about the fact that sometimes, like now, she looked more like a living weapon than a human. He knew that she could be across the room and at his throat in half a second if she wanted to, but the fact didn’t scare him like it used to._

_She was polite when she spoke, though. Calm, controlled. “This is what I do. I’m a spy, remember? Like you said, if we send in a bigger team we can better defend ourselves against those bastards, maybe take down more of them, too, but we risk blowing this whole thing if Hydra decides to destroy any information they have at that outpost. And this mission is about gathering intel, if there is any. Better for me to go alone, slip in undetected, and slip back out. We shouldn’t risk a whole team just on the chance that this is where they’re keeping their information.”_

_The air was even thicker now, Steve doubted his shield could’ve made a dent in the tenseness between him and Natasha. She stared him down and he held her gaze. Part of him, the very logical part of him knew she was right, but…but another part of him still didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want to risk_ her _, because those same sharp edges that made her a weapon drew him in. he wanted to test their sharpness against the pads of his fingers…But he knew, goddamn he knew she was right._

_“Let’s take an hour,” Colonel Phillips spoke up, shattering the staring contest Steve had been holding with her. “I want you to report back to me by then, Rogers. Dismissed.”_

_The Commandos bustled out of the room after the Colonel, hardly even daring to whisper among themselves. Bucky and Peggy followed, equally quiet, sharing only knowing looks between themselves. Natasha gave him one last challenging look before storming out too._

_Trying to swallow down his stubbornness he followed after her down the hall. “Natasha! Natasha, wait!”_

_She stopped, but she didn’t look too happy about it._

_“What?” she snapped._

_“I…can we….” He huffed out a frustrated breath, and looked around. Spotting an empty office, he gently grabbed her hand and tugged her inside, shutting the door behind them. She pulled her hand from his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. Her green eyes were stormy, features hard, but her shoulders were relaxed, like she knew she had complete control of the situation._

_He watched her for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully. She didn’t give him the chance._

_“You know I’m right.” Her voice was just as hard as the look she was giving him._

_Steve didn’t know what to say._ Of course _he knew she was right, but he couldn’t help the nagging feeling in his gut, that if he sent her out there something could go very, very wrong. But maybe that was just his heart not wanting to send her into danger for completely different reasons. Especially because that logical part of him knew that she could take care of herself no matter what._

 _His silence was answer enough for her. “What the hell was that back there? It’s too_ dangerous _for me?_ Really, _Steve?”_

_“It is,” he insisted, but the argument sounded weak even to his own ears._

_The look she gave him told him she thought the same thing. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”_

_“Maybe,” he shot back, “but it’s also suicide to go out there and do this on your own. There are too many of them out there for even you to take on at once.”_

_She scoffed, eyes blazing. “Did you not hear the part back there when I said that_ this is what I do _? This is my job. I’m a spy, not a soldier. No one is more qualified than me to get the information.”_

_“Fine. I’m coming with you.”_

_“_ No _,” she emphasized, voice dangerously low, eyes turned from fire to stone. “No way in hell.”_

_“And why the hell not? What, is it too dangerous for me now?”_

_“Yes! You’re Captain America. Even if you didn’t have the uniform on, the enemy can practically smell you from a mile away.”_

_“Now who’s spewing bullshit?” he told her, feeling stubborn and defiant even though she had a point._

_She clenched her jaw, dropping her hands into fists at her sides. She stared him down and lesser men surely would have burned alive under her gaze, but he didn’t back down. He crossed his arms, mimicking her earlier position. That just made her more rigid._

_“Don’t you get it?” she ground out. “I need to go on this mission alone. It_ is _dangerous. But I’m trained for this. And if things were to go south, it wouldn’t matter. I am_ expendable, _Steve. That’s half the reason Phillips keeps me around. If I die doing this, the worst that would happen is the Colonel would have to fill out a little extra paperwork._ You _, on the other hand, are anything but expendable. They need you. Your country needs you. If something happens to me…so be it. Just so long as you’re here to carry on, to win this goddamn war.”_

_Now it was Steve’s turn for his hands to drop down to his sides. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face, that face that he’d come so used to seeing by his side, amongst his team. Expendable. She thought she was expendable. His heart squeezed in his chest. Just the thought of something happening to her—god he couldn’t even fathom the idea. He’d always cared about her. He was just that kind of person. But this…this was so far beyond that, so much more, and he didn’t know how to put it into words when it was only written in the beats of his heart, the stutter in his breath, the ache in his gut, feeling every nerve come alive just at the sight of her._

_“You’re wrong,” he said finally, using as few words as possible to convey what he was feeling. “We need you.”_

_Her face softened, one of her brows cocking a fraction of an inch. “We?”_

_“Yes, we,” he repeated, taking a step towards her. “You’re a part of this team. And I…we can’t lose you, Natasha.”_

_She relaxed even further at the sound of her name. A moment later she was shaking her head. “I’m doing this, Steve. It needs to be done. We_ need _this intel, and nothing you do or say is going to stop me. You can tell the Colonel what you want, but I’m still going.”_

_He nodded, meeting her eyes. “Okay. But then there’s nothing you can do to stop me from coming with you either._

_The relief that flashed across her face quickly disappeared when he uttered the latter half of his statement._

_“You think you’re the only stubborn one here?” he challenged._

_“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha growled._

_He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a tough sell.”_

_She bared her teeth at him angrily. “We shouldn’t risk the man-power if we don’t have to! I can sneak in and out and be done with it. You’ll just slow me down.”_

_“I may not be a spy,” he countered, “but I can keep up. You need someone to have your back.”_

_“I got along just fine before you came into my life, Rogers. I’ll be fine this time too.”_

_He swallowed, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her arm. “But you’re not alone anymore.”_

_Silence hung in the air and Steve stopped counting the seconds she just looked at him, weighing her options. He was being unreasonably stubborn, but he couldn’t let her go in the thick of enemy territory on her own. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to her._

_“I’m leaving in the morning,” she said finally, voice dangerously low in that familiar, threatening way, “and if you try to stop me I will knock you on your ass.”_

_With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out._

_Steve blew out a breath._

_When he finally went to go talk to the Colonel, he told Phillips what he wanted to hear: that Natasha and Natasha alone was going to risk her life to get the information._

_-:-_

_Steve was pretty surprised that Natasha didn’t hear him approaching, but his soft footfalls would be nearly indiscernible in the steady summer rain coming down that night. Guessing that she would try and leave base without him, he’d waited outside her room all night, tucked away in a shadowed corner until she came out of her room._

_She’d paused outside her room, like she could sense he was there, but after a minute she moved on down the hallway. He figured it was just luck. And the fact that he’d donned dark pants and his leather jacket instead of his more easily recognizable Captain America uniform. This was a stealth mission after all._

_Steve got right up behind Natasha now, crouching down low right behind where she was stationed, scoping out the outpost. He’d barely covered her mouth with his hand so she wouldn’t cry out before she had a knife out and pressed into his side._

_“It’s me,” he quickly whispered in her ear. Slowly, he took his hand away from her mouth, and after a few long seconds, she dropped her knife back into its sheathe._

_“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, whipping around to face him._

_“What do you think?” he shot back. “I followed you. I may not be a spy like you but I’m not an idiot. I figured you would try and leave without me, and like I said, there’s nothing you were going to do that was going to keep me from coming with you.”_

_She glared at him for several heartbeats. “I’m going to get in so much trouble because of this, you do realize that, don’t you?”_

_“It was my decision to come after you,” he explained. “I told the Colonel that you were doing this alone, so all blame will be on me.”_

_Natasha blinked, rain running down her cheeks. She seemed genuinely shocked that he’d be so considerate and make sure that she wouldn’t get in trouble. “Well,” she said after a moment, “Phillips is going to be fucking_ pissed. _”_

_He shrugged. “Yeah, I know. So is Bucky.”_

_She blanched at him. “You didn’t even tell Bucky you were coming after me?”_

_“I knew he’d stop me.”_

_“Oh my god,” she muttered. “You’re impossible, you know that?”_

_He just grinned at her. “So, what’s the plan?”_

_She rolled her eyes at him, barely visible in the dark. She pivoted and then beckoned him forward, pointing towards their target building. “There it is,” she whispered, back in business mode. Steve followed to where she was pointing at the outpost. It was a little hazy through the rain, but he could make out a few lights and a couple sentries milling about outside the moderately-sized building, making their rounds. They were crouched between two massive trees, on the other side of the train tracks from the building, close enough to see, but far enough away that they wouldn’t be caught in the search beams that lit up the area around the building, putting any threat in the spotlight._

_“Not gonna be easy getting in,” he commented. She nodded, tense. He understood. His own shoulders were bunched, muscles stiff under his clothes. They’d already been gone three days, and Steve knew Colonel Phillips would be furious at them being gone for so long, but he wouldn’t dare send out men looking for them._

_Natasha had taken a motorcycle out from base, and he’d followed her out on his own bike, taking a slightly different path so as not to alert her to his presence. He’d left the vehicle on the edge of enemy territory after Natasha had done the same, hiding it among the foliage before continuing to track her on foot. That had been two days ago. It had been long and taxing, picking their separate ways slowly, cautiously through the woods, avoiding Nazi patrols the first day, and Hydra groups all that day. Now they were both on edge and anxious to get what they came for._

_“I’m to go in alone,” Natasha said, giving him a sideways look to make sure he didn’t protest. He stayed quiet, knowing she was still a little pissed at him for following her. “From the info Gabe gave us, there’s only two entrances: the front door and the roof. And since we’re trying_ not _to get caught, I’m going in through the roof.  I’m smaller than you are. It’ll be easier for me to get up there unseen.”_

_“I agree,” he told her understandingly._

_“Just wait here,” Natasha told him firmly. Waiting wasn’t his strong suit, and judging by the hand she laid on his arm, she knew this too. “Please. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, just go back to base.”_

_“I’m not leaving you,” he insisted._

_“You’re not even supposed to be here in the first place. You go back to base, get all the man-power we can spare, and maybe by the time you make it back here they won’t have burned the whole place to the ground.”_

_“Natasha—”_

_“I’m serious, Steve.”_

_There was something in her voice that made him stop short. He looked at her, the contrasting hard insistence of her features to the softness, the pleading in her eyes. Her red hair, soaked by the rain, was dulled, pieces sticking to her neck. Her hand was still on his arm and she gave it a small squeeze. Without breaking their eye contact, he laid his hand on top of hers briefly._

_“Okay,” he promised. “Okay. I’ll be right here.”_

_“Thank you.” Her hand slipped from his arm. “Remember, if I’m not back in thirty minutes, you get the hell out of here.”_

_“Be safe,” he said as she rose from her crouching position. “Please.”_

_“Always am,” she whispered, loud enough so that he could still ear her over the rain._

_Steve watched her dart over the train tracks and head the long way around towards the building. He shifted into a more comfortable position, and settled in to wait._

_-:-_

_Steve had a pretty good internal clock and deduced that Natasha had been gone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. The sky was lightening a little, dawn not too far off, but the rain was still coming down in sheets and he was thoroughly soaked through._

_He was anxious, worried, but there had been hardly a sound from the little outpost building so he assumed everything was okay. If something was majorly wrong, he would know. It made it easier to tamp down on his worry._

_That is, until a convoy of trucks started rolling up the dirt road that ran up from behind the outpost, and continued across the tracks and back North toward allied territory. The trucks wouldn’t have been a problem by themselves—he would have assumed it was supplies or soldiers switching out. But when he saw the vehicle that pulled up last—the familiar black V16 Roadster with the Hydra head hood ornament—his heart stuttered to a stop in his chest._

_Steve bolted up from his more relaxed position, crouching down low and easing forward, keeping to the shadows. Eyes fixated on the black car, Steve watched as Johann Schmidt, Red Skull, climbed out, in all his bare, scarlet skinned glory. He was wearing a scowl, per usual, that only seemed to deepen as he took in the little outpost. Steve’s heart only pounded harder against his ribs when Zola, carrying an umbrella, climbed out the car as well._

_“Shit,” Steve muttered._

_Schmidt started speaking, but the rain was too heavy and they were too far away for Steve to make out anything he said. It didn’t really matter, though, because a minute later he was headed into the building with Zola and the three dozen soldiers he’d brought with him._

_And Natasha was still inside._

_-:-_

_Natasha had just finished sticking all the relevant copies of information they needed into her satchel when she heard the sound of vehicles—definitely more than one—driving up the road. She’d had her ears perked the whole time she’d been in the back office, which was more of a storage space for old files, tucked into half a dozen, slightly rusted filing cabinets. It was hard to hear over the rain pounding down outside, but no, that was definitely vehicles outside. Trucks, it sounded like._

_Tucking her satchel underneath her coat and then buttoning it up, she crouched low, heading over to the window that looked out into the woods beyond, and the dirt road that led up to and past the building. Sure enough, three trucks and a black car were just about to the building. She was about to leave when she froze in her tracks. That car…_

_“Oh, god,” she whispered._

_She shouldn’t have, but she watched for a minute longer, just to see, just to make sure…_

_Sure enough, once the car had stopped, Red Skull stepped out, dressed head to toe in black, his crimson face gleaming in the lights from the building, his malignant gaze sweeping the area like he knew they were there. Or rather, like he could sense his enemy’s presence, sense Captain America._

_“Shit,” she muttered. And because that didn’t seem like enough, a string of Russian curses followed. Natasha double checked her weapons, and then double checked to make sure the strap of her satchel was secure and tucked safely under her coat._

_She could sense movement outside as she headed over to the door. Pressing her ear against it, she could hear the sound of several dozen pairs of feet coming her way. She tucked herself into the corner, bracing herself for the fight to come…but they walked past the room she was in and the sound receded down the hall._

_The roof entrance she had come in had emptied into the main control room down the hall, which was no doubt where Red Skull was now. The room had been empty when she’d entered, but there was no way she could use the roof again. That left the front door. Which she could get to, but the place was now teeming with Hydra, and there was no way she would get out unseen. So the front door…the front door or…or the window. Duh._

_She mentally chided herself before heading back over to the window. Making sure no one was standing directly outside, she tested it. It opened a fraction of an inch, relatively quietly. And any noise was covered by the rain. Natasha watched the flood lights, timing them, marking her best moment for escape. When the floodlights were pointed away, she eased the window open far enough to climb up and wriggle her body through. She quietly dropped to the ground, tensing, waiting, before shutting the window and easing herself along the side of the building._

_When the floodlights came back around, she pressed herself flush against the side, waiting till they passed by, before edging far enough down so she could look around the corner of the building._

_Her heart sank like a rock. There were dozens more Hydra soldiers than before, and the trucks were now blocking the path she’d taken around the building to get in the first time. Sure, she could get around the trucks, but now there were more soldiers on the other side, and the floodlights were scanning the area more thoroughly. With Red Skull on site, he’d surely brought in his best soldiers._

_What the hell was Schmidt doing here anyway? Shouldn’t he be holed up in his lair, safe and sound and destroying the world from a distance? Then again, this just proved that the information they so direly needed was in this ramshackle little building alongside the railroad tracks Hydra had been using. That was somewhat of a relief. But now she had no idea how she and Steve were going to get out of there unseen. Steve, who was Red Skull’s biggest threat and shouldn’t even be there in the first place._

_Deciding that trying to go around the way she had come was worth the risk, she waited till the floodlights had passed before darting over to the trucks, keeping low. With dawn coming quick, she hated that she couldn’t stick to the shadows as much. Soon Hydra wouldn’t need the floodlights to see her._

_Mud splattered her boots, the rain still coming down as she crept alongside one truck, her senses on high alert. Just as she was about to duck just inside the line of trees, a group of Hydra soldiers rounded the trucks, spotting her immediately. Before she even had time to react, shouts in German filled the air. They raised their guns just as she pulled her knife out of her boot and threw it at the nearest target, the blade sinking into the flesh of his neck, blood spurting to mix with the rain falling from the sky._

_She lunged at the other three, spinning and dodging as she disarmed them and twisted her body to avoid the one or two bullets fired her way. With a stolen gun, she executed two right away, bullet holes in between their eyes smoking as their bodies dropped. She grabbed her knife out of the closest guy and then stabbed the third one in the chest, covering his cry of pain with her hand._

_Not that it really mattered anyway. They’d already sounded the alarm, and more shouting filled the air, footsteps pounding her way as one of the floodlights focused on her general area._

_Well, so much for getting in and out unseen._

_-:-_

_Steve thought it couldn’t get any worse after Red Skull showed up until the alarms went off._

_“Shit,” he muttered, and even though Natasha told him to stay put, he risked creeping forward until he was just on the inside of the tree line. From the better vantage point, he could see the flash of muzzles and half a dozen soldiers converging on the trucks parked on the road. More soldiers were converging in front of and around the building, across the railroad tracks, covering the whole area. Red Skull burst out of the small building, looking livid, a flustered Zola inching out after him, protected behind a couple of Hydra soldiers._

_“Dammit,” Steve cursed. His eyes darted back to the trucks. Natasha was over there, he knew it, and there was no way she could break through all those enemies and make it back to him. He should do as she said, just haul back to base. They probably wouldn’t kill her right away. Schmidt would have questions for her. But he couldn’t risk her life on a ‘probably’._

_“Shit,” he repeated, with a sigh, before slinging his shield off his back and darting out into the open._

_At first, he was ignored. Mostly because all the Hydra soldiers were too surprised, but then they saw his red, white, and blue shield flashing in the rain and the slowly lightening day and they open fired. Steve’s boots thundered on the muddy ground as he charged, dodging and blocking bullets, pulling out his pistol and firing shots of his own in between throwing his shield, ricocheting it off the bodies of Hydra soldiers with satisfying thumps. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Red Skull and his glowering features broke out into gleeful hunger at the sight of his most hated enemy. Steve gritted his teeth, focusing on the enemies directly in front of him._

_Luckily, with the distraction, Natasha was able to break free from the throng of enemies that had swarmed her and Steve saw her dart out into the battle. She gave him a brief look that said ‘thank god’ and ‘I’m going to kill you for being so fucking stupid’ at the same time. He didn’t think about it too much, though, as he drove his muddy boot into the abdomen of one man, sending him flying until he crashed into the ground. He threw his shield at another, and the disc connected with the side of the man’s helmet and he effectively dropped to the muddy ground. He retrieved the shield, and charged at three more men, using his body now that his gun was empty._

_He ended up back to back with Natasha as they fought and the enemies pressed in closer._

_"I thought I told you to go back to base!” Natasha shouted at him over the rain and sounds of the fight._

_“Did you really think I would listen?” he called back to her over his shoulder._

_The sound of her gun firing was the only response. She dropped a few more bodies with precise shots until the gun clicked and she swore under her breath. Steve had taken down a few more soldiers that had been dub enough to get near him, breaking several bones with the force of blows and the strength behind his shield arm as he brought it down on them. But the circle of enemies was getting tighter, and he and Natasha were both out of bullets, and there was no chance to reload._

_“Steve,” Natasha warned lowly._

_“I know,” he said just as quietly. The rain was slowly, but it was still coming down and the ground was a muddy mess beneath their splattered boots. Both Steve and Natasha’s faces were covered in mud and water, their clothes thoroughly soaked through. Natasha backed up against him, her back flush with his, and he felt her quickly press something into his hand, before stepping forward again. It took a second for him to process what she’d given him, but when he clicked the pieces together, he tucked the object safely out of view of Red Skull, who was stepping forward through his ring of two or three dozen men that had them surrounded._

_“There’s a smaller truck right by the train tracks,” Natasha whispered as Schmidt got closer, grinning at them._

_Steve nodded. “On my mark,” he said just as quietly._

_He caught the nearly imperceptible tilt of her head in acknowledgement before bracing himself, standing at his full height as Red Skull stopped in front of them._

_“Captain America!” the Hydra leader shouted, the words echoing around them. “How nice to see you again! I was very much hoping we would get a chance to speak again. Tell me, what brings you here at such an odd hour?”_

_Steve sense Natasha tensing beside him, slowly reaching for the knife in her belt._

_"Thought I’d do some sightseeing,” Steve replied, staring down the Hydra leader, keeping track of the Hydra soldiers’ movements, waiting, waiting. “So far I’m not too impressed.”_

_Red Skull’s mouth twitched, the corners turning down into the slightest frown before he shook it off. At Red Skull’s ease, the Hydra soldiers lowered their weapons just the slightest._ Now, they had to do it now.

_“Why don’t we go inside, and we can converse like civilized men?” Red Skull offered._

_“Ready?” Steve mouthed to Natasha. She nodded. He looked back at Red Skull. “Sorry, I’ve got somewhere to be.”_

_By the time Schmidt had processed the words, Steve had already pulled the pin from the grenade and launched it into the sea of Hydra soldiers. He and Natasha didn’t waste a second. They pushed through the ring of soldiers, feet slamming against the muddy earth, away from the fallen grenade. Seconds later, the explosion went off, and a fireball exploded into the graying sky behind them, red and yellow flames lighting up the air before they died down and black smoke took its place._

_“Stop them!” Red Skull screamed in German. Steve cursed silently, but knew he hadn’t been lucky enough to take out Schmidt so easily._

_He didn’t have time to think about it though as he and Natasha made their way to the empty truck. He threw open the door to the truck’s cab and slid into the dry leather seat, slipping his shield onto his back and starting up the vehicle and Natasha slid in on the passenger side. No sooner had she slammed her door shut before he was slamming his foot down on the gas. They rocketed over the railroad tracks as the sound of engines fired up behind them._

_Steve barely looked in the rearview mirror as he drove as fast as he could down the road, back towards allied territory. He didn’t want to think about far off ally territory actually_ was, _but the closer they could get, the better. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Natasha reloading her pistol. A quick glance in the mirror showed that there were three motorcycles and two jeeps chasing after them, still a little ways behind, but not far enough to comfort him. Natasha just kept a hand on her gun, glancing in her side mirror every once in a while._

_He was foolish to think that they were in the clear, but for a second he did. For a second he thought they were going to make it. They were going to drive all the way into allied territory. And then something slammed into them from behind and that thought was effectively knocked from Steve’s head as his neck snapped forward._

_“What the hell?” Natasha muttered. He glanced at her quickly and saw her fastening her seatbelt. When he looked in the mirror, Steve saw one of the jeeps had rammed into them from behind—and Red Skull himself was driving._

_Steve cursed, pushing the gas pedal down a little farther, as far as it would go, barely getting a lead on Red Skull. But he focused on the road in front of him. The rain had slowed to nothing more than a lazy drizzle, and dawn was upon them, a dull gray light filtering in here and there through the equally gray clouds._

_Red Skull’s jeep slammed into them again, and the tires swerved the slightest on the muddy road before Steve righted the vehicle._

_“Steve,” Natasha said, worry coloring her tone._

_“I know, I know,” he replied, looking back in the mirror. The other jeep and the motorcycles had caught up, and now, in addition to Schmidt riding their tail, two of the motorcycles were flanking each side. “Don’t suppose you got any more grenades?”_

_“I do, actually,” she said._

_"How many?”_

_“Two.”_

_“Give me one,” he said quickly, keeping a hand on the wheel and holding his other out to her. “Let’s take those two bikes out.”_

_She set a grenade in his hand, and he maneuvered, switching things around until he could roll down his window. Natasha did the same. “Ready?” she asked. He nodded, and they pulled the pins on the grenades, chucking them out the windows, ducking back inside as gunmen started firing bullets, all shots bouncing harmlessly off the metal body of the truck. Seconds later the grenades went off, and Steve looked in the mirrors to see that only one of their intended bikers had been stopped, but so had the jeep that was farther back, so he took it as a win._

_“I don’t have anything else we can use, and from the looks of it, this truck is empty,” Natasha told him, holding her pistol like it was a lifeline. “There’s no way we’re going to get back to base without a fight, and we don’t have a whole lot to fight with.”_

_Steve exhaled through his nose. “I’m thinking.”_

_Red Skull didn’t seem too keen on giving him the time to think, though, as he rammed into them again._

_"Shit!” Steve barked, righting the vehicle, but not failing to notice that they were a lot closer to the shoulder of the road than before. A few more hits like that on the slippery ground and they’d be off the road entirely._

_Schmidt, still racing behind them as they barreled down the road, seemed to realize this too and sped up and hit them again, shoving them over a few more inches. Steve couldn’t press down the gas pedal anymore. Steve turned the wheel, knocking into the bike on Natasha’s side that had failed to go down with one of the grenades, causing the vehicle and its rider to lose control and flip, man over bike, before settling, still, on the side of the road. But the Red Skull was right there with them, bumper to bumper, pushing them towards the opposite ditch now._

_“He’s going to knock us off the road,” Natasha said, half to herself._

_“Yup.” Steve spared her a glance, and she just nodded grimly at him. He noticed her hand flutter once to the satchel she had still hidden under her coat. Even if they ended up in the ditch, if one of them could just get out, just get that information back to base, they could win this, they could end the fight with Hydra._

_"Hang on,” was all Steve said as he maneuvered his shield off his back to protect himself, watching in the rearview mirror as Red Skull sped up one more time and rear-ended them at full speed._

_Steve, not really wanting to go in the ditch, tried to right the vehicle, but Schmidt pushed and pushed against them, his malicious smile visible in the mirror. The tires slid on the muddy road, until the front right one caught on the edge of the ditch._

_-:-_

_The world was right side up for just a moment, everything perfectly still, before the vehicle was rolling down into the ditch, Natasha’s stomach turning in time with the flipping truck. She was glad she’d put her seatbelt on, because it was about all that kept her somewhat in place as the truck turned and turned. Metal groaned and the windshield shattered, spraying glass, scratching up her face and hands. The world was spinning and she couldn’t see anything except for the occasional flash of Steve’s shield out of the corner of her eye._

_She gasped when the truck finally settled, like a half-crushed tin can against the side of a tree, her door trapped against the trunk. They were upside down, and it only made her already throbbing head pound more. Her ears were ringing, and she could hear shouting, maybe, but it all sounded so far away. She groaned, blinking against the spots that danced in her vision. When everything came into focus for the most part, she was staring through the broken windshield, at the damp and muddy grass. The light rain tinkled against the exposed bottom of the truck, trickling in here and there._

_“Steve,” she whispered, her voice scratchy, like she had been screaming. Maybe she had screamed, she didn’t know._

_Twisting her neck, panic immediately rose into her throat when she saw that he wasn’t there._ Oh god, oh god, _had he been thrown from the vehicle? He hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt? Shit, shit, shit. Oh, god._

_“Steve!” she yelled, as loud as she could. She could still hear shouting, gunfire now too, and her fear and panic rose and rose and rose inside of her chest, and it made her head hurt, the blood pounding too heavy in her veins. “Steve!”_

_She called out his name a few more times, trying to get her seatbelt unstuck, and when that didn’t work, uselessly pounded her door against the trunk of the tree the vehicle was wedged against._

_“Steve—”_

_“Natasha,”_

_She nearly sobbed in relief when his face swam into view through the broken windshield. He gave her half a smile, slung his shield onto his back, and then lowered himself further to the ground, half crawling into the broken truck to pull on her seatbelt. Even with his enhance strength, from his awkward position, it took him a few tries, but the belt finally snapped, and she tumbled free, sucking in a breath of air as the blood rushed from her head back down towards the rest of her limbs._

_He helped pull her out, and by the time they were done, they were both thoroughly covered in mud. Their clothes were torn in places, and they both had scratches and dirt everywhere. Steve was sporting a pretty good gash on his neck and cheek, and the stickiness she felt on the side of her face told her that she was bleeding pretty good too._

_“Sorry I couldn’t get to you right away,” Steve said suddenly. “Red Skull and his men started to open fire and—”_

_“I thought you were dead!” she burst out, cutting him off._

_He blinked at her, then chuckled._

_“It’s not funny,” she snapped._

_“No, no, it’s not, I’m sorry,” he said, but he was still smiling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry about worrying you. If it makes you feel any better, I for sure thought I was dead, too, but, well, I found someone. Come on.”_

_Scowling at him, she let him lead her up the moderately steep ditch they’d rolled down, until they were standing on the road. Looking back the way they’d come, Natasha could see the tiniest prick of a fast-moving vehicle off in the distance._

_“We chased Red Skull off,” Steve said by way of explanation. “We almost had him, but…”_

_“We?”_

_“Um, yeah—” Steve started to say, before Natasha turned and saw Bucky and the other Howling Commandos standing there._

_“You,” Bucky growled, looking at her briefly, before turning back to Steve. “Now that we have a moment to talk, you are in so much fucking trouble! Do you have any idea how red in the face the Colonel got when he saw that you were just fucking_ gone _the other morning?”_

_“I—” Steve started to say, but Bucky gave him a look and he stopped immediately._

_Natasha shifted on her feet, noticing the other Commandos taking up similar stances, but they also had amused expressions on their faces, like they’d seen Bucky like this before. She hadn’t, and it was a little funny, but he was also a little terrifying._

_“Guess who he came to first, Steve? Guess! That’s right! Yours truly! And it took me hours, fucking_ hours _to convince him that I knew nothing about your stupid as shit plan to go chase after Natasha here, who was just as stupid for going off by herself, and goddamn you’re just so fucking lucky punk that Gabe finally tapped into Hydra’s radio signals and overheard that motherfucking_ Red Skull _was going to be at the exact place you two fucking idiots were going to be at, and we drove out here immediately to meet you. Only to see you two getting run off the fucking road! And let me tell you, Stevie, you’re gonna wish that fucking truck killed you because I’m about to do it myself.”_

_Natasha knew Bucky swore even more than usual when he got upset especially at Steve, but damn. There was a good long silence, and Steve managed to look sheepish and completely unapologetic at the same time. The corners of his mouth were quirked up in the tiniest smile, and Natasha was sure that Bucky was going to make good on his threat and strangle Steve right then and there._

_“You done?” Steve asked finally._

_“No, you motherfucking shithead! Of course I’m not done!” Bucky yelled. “You’re going to hear about this for the rest of your fucking life! I mean_ Red Skull _? Only you would be fucking stupid enough to go to the fucking outpost when Red Skull was going to be there!”_

_“Well, I didn’t know he was going to be there,” Steve argued with a shrug._

_“Well I know you, and I know you still would’ve gone because you’re a fucking idiot!” Bucky snapped._

_At this point, the rest of the Commandos had piled into their vehicles, leaving her, Steve, and Bucky standing in the middle of the road, still well into enemy territory._

_“Come on, girls,” she chided, grabbing both their arms. “You can finish this later.”_

_Steve just smiled while Bucky grumbled and climbed into the back of one of their trucks. As they settled in and started driving back towards base, keeping an eye out for anymore Nazi or Hydra soldiers, Bucky gave them both a once over._

_"You two look like shit,” he commented._

_“Thanks,” Natasha muttered._

_“Did you at least get what you went there for?” Bucky asked, piquing the interest of Gabe, who was seated next to Bucky on the bench opposite from her and Steve._

_Natasha unzipped her jacket and pulled out her half-soaked satchel. She lifted it over her head and pulled it off her body, tossing it to Bucky. He looked inside, his eyes lighting up in surprise before handing it over to Gabe. Gabe pulled out all the files and papers she’d managed to steal. Quite a few of them were a little messy with the rain and mud that had managed to soak through her jacket and the satchel, but for the most part, all the information was intact._

_Gabe whistled. “Damn, girl.”_

_She just smiled._

_“I’m still going to kill you,” Bucky looked pointedly at Steve, who just raised his hand in an innocent gesture._

_“Oh no,” Natasha said with a shake of her head, “I get first stab at him for being such an idiot and coming after me.”_

_Bucky made a face. “Fair enough. I can take turns.”_

_“Yeah, that’s if the Colonel leaves any for the rest of you,” Gabe cut in._

_They all laughed at that._

_Then Bucky and Gabe started poring over the files Natasha and retrieved. Natasha leaned against Steve’s side, not minding at all when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was too damn tired to fight him, anyway._

_“I’m glad you’re not dead,” she murmured to him sleepily as her eyes slid shut and she sagged against him._

_He chuckled, his chest rumbling underneath her cheek. “Yet, you mean.”_

_"Yeah,” she agreed, already half-asleep._

_“Well, I’m glad you're not dead too,” he said._

_Natasha only half-heard him. Seconds later, with her head tucked against this chest, she was asleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to update soon! I can promise that the next chapter will be a good one! Just be patient, and thank you for being so awesome!


	18. Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hi. It's been a while. So, I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry that I took forever to get this up. And by forever I mean it's been a YEAR since I updated this story and I seriously don't know how that happened. But honestly, it was good for me. I needed to take a break from this story I think. I was stuck on this chapter for a while. I mean I seriously think I rewrote this chapter like five times guys. But between working on getting unstuck and going through periods of not writing and school and work, well, it took me a while to finish this. And then I was also working on the next chapter (which is so close to being done and far longer than I'd intended but hey!).   
> And I don't know I'm rambling now, but the point is I was super busy and I owe you guys so much thanks for sticking around and being patient with me. Your support on this story means the world, and I don't want you guys to think that I've given up on it, because seriously, there are parts of this story that I absolutely NEED to get to because they've been sitting around in my head forever and I want to share them with all of you.   
> So thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the love and lovely reviews and comments and everything, you guys are the best readers EVER and I love and appreciate all of you!  
> This chapter takes place directly after the last one. I will get the next chapter up hopefully in the next few days. Until then, enjoy! And thank you all once again!

_After driving nearly non-stop for two and a half days back into allied territory, Steve knew the second he stepped out of the truck to see Peggy waiting for them that he was in a shitload of trouble._

_“I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece,” Peggy had said with a relieved smile on her face, despite their still haggard state of appearance. “Though, you might not be after you see the Colonel.”_

_Steve tilted his head in understanding. “He wants to see us now, I take it?”_

_Peggy nodded, and he followed her inside, the rest of them trailing behind. People stared and whispers followed them as they walked through base, though whether out of curiosity about the mission or the fact that he was going to get his ass handed to him, Steve wasn’t sure._

_When they arrived outside the Colonel’s office, Peggy didn’t even have to knock. Phillips opened the door and gestured to Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. “You three, inside,_ now. _Carter, I want a plan written up for the next scouting mission. The rest of you, I want mission reports on my desk by the end of the day. Dismissed.”_

_Colonel Phillips ducked back into his office, clearly meaning for them to follow. Steve turned to his Commandos briefly. “Thank you again.”_

_They nodded. “Sure thing, Cap,” Dugan spoke up._

_"It’s been nice knowing ya,” Morita chimed in, grinning a second later as low chuckles spread among the group of men. Steve cracked a quick smile and dismissed them with a nod of his head. Peggy lingered for just a moment longer with a sympathetic smile on her face, before following everyone else away. Steve took a breath, then headed into the Colonel’s office._

_The second the door clicked shut Colonel Phillips went off, barely waiting for Steve to stand at attention. His lecture made Bucky’s look downright civilized. The first few minutes involved more swearing than actual words, and Steve wasn’t sure the Colonel would actually be able to stop. Finally, though, Phillips took a breath and calmed down. Steve still didn’t dare speak, though, because he was pretty sure it would just set the Colonel off again._

_“You are damn lucky we need you, Rogers, otherwise I’d have you packing so fast…” Phillips trailed off, his jaw set angrily._

_“I understand, sir,” he replied. Bucky and Natasha wisely remained silent._

_“Do you? Do you understand?” Phillips stared him down. “Not only did you directly lie to me about the nature of the mission, but then you—and her—” he glanced quickly at Natasha, “went behind my back and left base without informing anyone. Not only did you two do something incredibly stupid that risked both your lives, but then you had to risk the lives of your fellow soldiers here because they had to pull your asses out of the fire! Also behind my back, I might add. And don’t even get me started on Red Skull, Rogers. Just be damn appreciative that I’m not putting you all on suspension.”_

_Phillips took another breath. “Despite your apparent lack of common sense these past days, you did good work getting that intel. You damn well better pray that it’s worth it. Barnes, don’t you dare ever step foot off this base again without my permission. I want your report on my desk before dinner and not a second later or else you’ll be on bathroom duty for a week.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Bucky said, casting Steve a quick glance that said ‘if I get put on bathroom cleaning duty, I’m dragging you with me’._

_Colonel Phillips nodded. “Barnes, dismissed.”_

_Once Bucky had left and the door had shut again, Phillips heaved his biggest sigh yet and leaned back against his desk, bracing his hands against the edge. Steve was sure he and Natasha were about to get scolded some more, but instead Phillips turned his attention to Natasha._

_“Ms. Romanoff.” Natasha stiffened as Phillips addressed her, but stayed quiet as he gave her a long look. “I find it a little hard to believe that you failed to notice that Captain Rogers followed you for days into enemy territory. Unless of course you had prior knowledge that he was going to accompany, in which case—“_

_“With all due respect, sir,” Steve interrupted, receiving a none-too-happy look from Phillips. “But you should not place any blame on Romanoff. She_ didn’t _know that I was going to follow her, nor did she request any form of back-up. I understood the risks of following her to the location, but it was my choice to put my life, and the mission, in jeopardy in order to aid her. I admit that I lied to you about doing so, but it was just me. She had nothing to do with this—she was only following orders. I take full blame, and I will accept any punishment you see fit.”_

_Colonel Phillips blinked like the Steve he knew and recognized had vanished and a stranger had taken his place. Out of his periphery, Steve could see that Natasha’s features had slackened in surprise._

_Phillips cleared his throat. “Well said, Rogers. Like I said, we need you. So, fortunately for you, you’re not being punished. Even you, Romanoff.” The Colonel regarded Natasha for another moment. “If it was my choice, I would’ve sent you back to Russia a long time ago. But for some reason, Captain Rogers here trusts you a great deal. I believe that you had no part in his damn foolish plan to follow you off base, but he has enough faith to take the fall for you even when there’s no blame to be placed upon you. It’s starting to become a bit of a pain in the ass, if you ask me.”_

_Steve saw Natasha crack a hint of a smile, and he felt the tips of his ears burn, but he kept his eyes forward as Phillips looked between the two of them. “You two did good. But despite the fact, know that just because I’m not punishing you does not mean that you are completely off the hook. If you two ever pull something like this again, I will haul both your asses right off this base myself.” Phillips gaze softened the slightest. “You both look like shit. Go get cleaned up. I want reports by the end of the night. Dismissed.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Steve and Natasha replied in unison, before turning and walking out of the office._

_“You didn’t have to do that,” Natasha told him once they’d walked a ways down the hall._

_“Well, it_ was _my fault,” he pointed out, “and you would’ve done the same for me.”_

_He saw her lips twitch into half a smile. “How do you know that?”_

_“Because I know you.”_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha falter a fraction of a step, something he wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t spent so much time with her._

_Yeah,” she murmured, half to herself, eyes looking straight ahead but also a million miles away._

_“Natasha?” he prodded when she didn’t say anything else._

_“Sorry.” She shook her head, slowing to a stop. “I should go get cleaned up and fill out a report, but I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”_

_Steve wasn’t sure what had distracted her all the sudden, but he found himself nodding nonetheless before she made her way down the hall and disappeared around the corner._

_-:-_

_Natasha didn’t realize how truly exhausted she was until she stepped under the stream of the shower. She’s slept fitfully here and there in the truck as they’d driven back to base over the course of the last few days, but it hadn’t been enough. Now, back on base, her tiredness was quickly sinking into her bones, and her griminess was all the more apparent. She couldn’t sleep, not yet, so the shower would have to do for the moment. She was just grateful that no one else was in there with her. There were enough women on base, either officers, or nurses mostly, that they got their own room for showers. Not quite as large as the men’s showers, of course, but she didn’t care. At the moment, the only thing she cared about was the hot water running down her body, which was just about the closest thing to heaven she could imagine as it washed away the dirt and mud, dried blood and grime that had built up on her skin and in her hair over the past week._

_The dirty water swirled down the drain, revealing her scraped and bruised skin underneath. As she scrubbed her body clean with a bar of soap, she couldn’t help but think about Steve, not just what he’d said about knowing her—which had, admittedly, caught her off guard—but about everything that they’d been through up until that point. She wasn’t much of a believer in love. Any notion of such a thing had been beaten out of her in the Red Room. But whether it was love or not, Natasha couldn’t deny that was attracted to Steve Rogers. Extremely so. It sort of terrified her. The way he could catch her off guard so easily, the ease at which he’d squeezed himself into her life, gotten close enough to her that it was hard to imagine a future where they weren’t standing by each other’s side._

_It was hard to let go of her training, of every instinct that was telling her that she shouldn’t let anything—not emotions or love—cloud her judgement, distract her from her mission. But there was no mission, there was no target. There was no Red Room. Not for her anymore. None of her teachers could get to her. Not Brushov, no one. A small voice in the back of her mind told her that Steve wouldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t let them get to her, and at that thought something warm and unfamiliar wrapped around her heart._

_She didn’t know much else, but she did know she wanted Steve Rogers. Even if he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him, even if the idea of having feelings for_ Captain America _terrified her, she decided that she’d spent enough of her life in the shadow of fear, of not acting because the people who’d trained her had taught her not to act on her own, not to act without orders. Well, she wasn’t taking orders anymore. Not from the people that had controlled her most of her life. No, she was ready to put that behind her, ready to be selfish for the first time in her life._

_Natasha quickly finished washing her body, rinsing thoroughly before shutting the water off and grabbing her towel. Once she dressed and had dried her hair as best she could, she headed down the hall to the infirmary, pretty sure that the wound on her head was bleeding again. When Natasha stepped through the doorway her eyes immediately landed on Steve. Her lips started to form a smile, but it quickly disappeared. She halted in her tracks. “What happened?”_

_Steve looked up. His blonde hair was damp, flopping over his forehead before he pushed it back to meet her gaze. He was shirtless, but Natasha could hardly admire the planes of hardened muscle as Steve’s mouth formed a small_ o _. He looked down at the bandage the nurse was taping off on his right side, as if to remind himself that it was there. “Oh, I, um, got shot.”_

_“When?” Natasha asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded when, inside, she was feeling anything but. It was the same feeling she’d gotten when the truck had flipped after Red Skull had run them off the road, the same paralyzing worry and fear that had nearly consumed her when she’d thought he’d died being thrown from the vehicle. She barely registered the nurse that laid a hand on her arm and led her to another one of the tables to get checked out. She tried to focus, tried to listen to what the nurse was saying, asking where her injuries were, but all her attention was on Steve._

_“After the truck flipped,” Steve explained, talking carefully, gently, like he was trying not to anger her, “you were still inside and Red Skull’s men were open firing and, well, I’m not really sure. I didn’t notice until after we were heading back to base. Morita patched me up after you fell asleep.”_

_Natasha nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the nurse said something about her needing a few stitches in the wound on her head. “Well, are you okay?”_

_Steve’s eyes widened just so, like he was surprised she was being so calm about all of it. Natasha was a little surprised herself. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was clean, through and through. Already started healing.”_

_“Looks like it’s a week or two old already,” Steve’s nurse said with a comforting smile in Natasha’s direction. “The bandage is really just a precaution. He’ll be able to take it off in a few days.”_

_“That’s good,” Natasha managed. There wasn’t much talking as her own nurse finished stitching up her head and then checked out the rest of her injuries, nothing but bruises and cuts, and a couple minor bruised ribs that she hardly noticed._

_“Could you give us a minute, please?” Natasha asked the nurses quietly once they’d finished up. Steve, who was tugging a plain white tee over his head, paused for a split second to gauge the nurses’ reactions. The two women exchanged a look, before nodding at Natasha._

_“Sure,” one of them said, clearly trying to fight a smile. The other one was less successful, letting loose a giggle as the two women exited the room and shut the door behind them. Natasha didn’t have time to care about whatever rumors were circulating around base about her and Steve as she turned to look at him._

_He straightened out his shirt, waiting patiently for her to speak. He looked a lot less nervous than she thought he would have. She knew she could be intimidating, knew she could be harsh and abrasive with her words just as much as with her fists, but he was standing his ground, ever-confident. Natasha had the sudden realization that he’d never been truly scared of her. Sure, he understood just how strong and dangerous she was, but he’d also always seen the human side of her beneath all of that. And that’s what he saw now. Not a killer, not the Black Widow, just Natasha._

_Any anger Natasha felt quickly disappeared. “Are you okay?” she asked again._

_Steve’s gaze softened. “Yes. Really, I’m good. I promise. It’s not infected or anything. And you heard the nurse, the bandage is mostly just a precaution.”_

_“Can I see?” she asked._

_If Steve was surprised, he didn’t show it._ Confident. _He was so confident. And yet, any confidence Natasha had felt before, about wanting him, about confronting him, it all seemed to have disappeared. She had no idea what to say to him, but she knew she had to touch him, to reassure herself that he was okay, that he was real and this wasn’t all in her head._

_Steve closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving her face, even as she turned her gaze down. When he was in front of her, Natasha reached out and lifted the hem of the shirt he’d just straightened out. He held it in place for her as she carefully peeled the tape holding the bandage in place away from his skin, pulling the entire thing aside just enough for her to be able to inspect the bullet wound. Well, even though she hadn’t really doubted it, the nurses had been right. The wound already looked a couple weeks old. It was clean, through and through just like Steve had said._

_She grazed her fingers lightly over the flesh around the wound, and Steve hissed in surprise. Natasha drew back quickly, “Sorry.”_

_Steve shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s the serum. It makes everything a little more sensitive when I’m healing. This isn’t so bad, since it’s just the bullet wound and the bruises that I have, but…”_

_He trailed off as Natasha carefully straightened the bandage and ran her fingers over the tape, pushing it back into place. Steve let his shirt drop back down, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed._

_“I’m a hypocrite,” she said softly, half to herself._

_“How so?”_

_She met his eyes. “I yell at you about worrying about me and then I turn around and do the exact same thing.”_

_She swore she saw Steve about to smirk, but he kept it contained. “You were worried about me?”_

_She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.” Steve laughed and Natasha couldn’t help but smile a little. “_ Yes _, I was worried about you, okay? I thought you’d died when the truck crashed and apparently you got shot and I just…I don’t want anything to happen to you.”_

_Steve stared, lips parting just slightly at her admission. They were still only six inches apart at most. Natasha wasn’t sure who moved first, but then her mouth was on Steve’s and everything else fell away. All her worries, all her fears, it was all gone except for the feeling of his lips on hers. The kiss was slow but no less heated. She knew that Steve wasn’t incredibly experienced in this department, but his familiarity with her, the confidence that he’d been carrying with him all night, it made him bold. She led, he followed, and his ability to quickly learn had them soon developing a rhythm that felt completely natural._

_Steve’s hands slowly reached up to grip her waist, even as her own quickly fisted in the material of his t-shirt. Despite the carefulness of the kiss, Natasha was breathless. She didn’t realize how long she’d wanted to kiss him until that moment. And she didn’t want to stop. But just as quickly as it had started, it was over. They pulled back at the same time. Steve’s eyes were wide, surprised, maybe a little unsure, a slightly darker shade of blue than before. Suddenly Natasha was unsure as well. She’d kissed him, and he’d clearly kissed her back, and though her heart, beating madly in her chest, told her exactly how much she felt for him, her brain was screaming a million different excuses at her to walk away and not look back._

_“I—I’m sorry, I should—I should go—” she stammered, not waiting for Steve to respond before she maneuvered carefully around him and dashed out the door._

_-:-_

_Steve decided to give Natasha some space. Still, it didn’t make him any less concerned, especially when she didn’t show up for dinner. He tried not to let it bother him, or at least not to let it_ show _, which was hard, given that he was sitting at a table full of people who knew him best. Bucky had let it go after asking five or six times what was wrong, though he could still feel concern rolling off his best friend in waves. Peggy kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He knew the other Commandos could tell something was wrong, but they wisely kept their mouths shut and enjoyed dinner and a little bit of relaxation while they were back on base for the time being._

 _As they laughed and shared stories and discussed everything in between, Steve let his mind wander. He barely tasted his food as he ate, his mind constantly going back to Natasha and their kiss instead of what he was doing. Their kiss. They’d_ kissed. _Steve was pretty sure Natasha had made the move just seconds before he caught on, but once it was happening he hadn’t wanted it to stop. He’d known before the kiss that he cared about her, deeply. Enough that when she’d admitted that she worried just as much about him as he did about her that, well, his breath had caught in his throat and his stomach had twisted and flopped all fver the place. And then her lips were against his and kissing her—once he’d gotten over his initial surprise and doubts about his lack of experience—had felt like the most natural thing in the world, like they’d done it a million times before._

_But then they’d stopped and he’d looked at Natasha and watched as her walls shot back up. He knew, from what she’d told him about her life in the Red Room and from what he’d deduced himself that she’d been taught not to let anyone in. Anything that might interfere with a mission was frowned upon. So even if she felt as strongly as he did, it would be hard to break old habits, especially ones that had been beaten into her so relentlessly and consistently. But she wasn’t in the Red Room anymore, and he would spend as much time as he had to remind her of that. Even if she ultimately decided that she didn’t feel the same way, that this was just a spur of the moment type thing, the least he could do, as her friend and partner, was remind her that she was her own person now. She didn’t belong to anyone but herself._

_-:-_

_After dinner Steve finally managed to break away from everyone else and head back to his room. He finished up his report for Phillips and turned it in. With nothing else to do, he decided that he couldn’t put off talking to Natasha any longer, and he headed through the base to her quarters. He knocked right away, not giving himself a moment to rethink, and tucked his hands into his pockets while he waited. It was silent for a few seconds, but her light was on so he knew she was in there. A few more impossibly long moments, and then he heard soft footsteps on the other side of the door right before it opened._

_Not for the first time since he’d met her did Steve think about how beautiful she looked. Her red hair, falling just past her shoulders, glowed in the light emanating from her room. Her green eyes were soft as they took him in, her shoulders sagging a little as she exhaled. Neither of them said anything—they didn’t have to. Natasha simply sidestepped and gestured for him to come in and shut the door quietly behind him._

_“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Steve said as he turned to face her, having to ask the question that had been on his mind most of the night. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he had to be sure._

_To his relief, Natasha laughed softly and shook her head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”_

_“Then what happened?”_

_Natasha blew out a breath, not meeting his eyes. “I…started to doubt myself,” she spoke slowly, like she was trying not to say too much. Steve waited patiently, let her collect her thoughts. When she finally looked at him, there was enough softness in her gaze, enough chinks in her armor, that Steve dared to take a step forward. She didn’t back away._

_She shifted on her feet, so abnormally uncertain with herself as she spoke, “I’m not good at this. Saying how I feel. But I’m willing to try,” she gave him a look that sent his blood thrumming in his veins, “for you.”_

_Steve took another step towards her, putting them close enough that Natasha had to tilt her head back just so in order to look at him._

_“Kissing you,” Natasha continued, voice soft, “was the first thing I’ve done for myself in a very long time. I shouldn’t have run out of there like that, but in that moment…I wanted you so badly, and that scared me._ You _scare me.”_

 _“I_ scare _you?” Steve gave a little laugh in disbelief. He found it hard to believe that_ anything _could scare Natasha Romanoff, much less himself._

 _Natasha laughed too, the smile lighting up her face. “_ Yes, _you scare me. You have made me feel things that I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling anymore.” She hesitated, hand twitching at her side like she wanted to reach out and touch him. “You…you’ve reminded me what it’s like to be human. That I’m not just a wbat they made me into. And no matter what happens, that means the world to me. I don’t think it’s possible that I’ll ever be able to completely let go of my past, or that I won’t ever fall back into old habits, but you’ve helped me be better. And for the first time in a very long time, I want something for myself.” This time, she did reach out and grab his hand, gave it the lightest of squeezes. “I want you.”_

_Steve’s heart was beating hard in his chest, the million different things he wanted to say bouncing around in his head. The kiss, what she’d just said, it was all making his feelings for her that much more concrete. In the eight months they’d known each other, Steve had quickly found himself getting attached to her. First as a potential ally and partner, then as a friend, and now…lately he’d found himself thinking about her all the time, making an effort to get her to smile more, get her to laugh, slowly working on prying down her walls bit by bit without pushing her too far, giving her the chance to open up to him on her own. Which she’d done. A little bit, at least. And it only made him want to figure out the puzzle that was Natasha Romanoff even more._

_He’d had feelings for Peggy (some small part of him was sure that he’d always feel something for her) and in a way what he felt for Natasha was that similar desire, the wanting to be near her, to talk and laugh with her, to touch her. But this was also Natasha, and what he felt for her was different from anything else he’d ever felt. There was something inside of him that burned for her, burned brighter and hotter than it had even for Peggy. She could piss him off like no other, but he knew that was because they were alike in just as many ways as they were different. He was drawn to her—had been drawn to her since the first time he laid eyes on her. not just because of her beauty, but because of the strength he could see in her, the strength of her body, and even more so, the strength of her spirit. She was intelligent and capable and she was a survivor of so many hardships, and it had given her the ability to endure more than most. Everything about her compelled him, and that undeniably attracted him to her._

_He’d thought many times about sitting down with his sketchbook and a pencil, but he hadn’t actually drawn her. Not yet. He didn’t want to do so without permission, but they were either out fighting a war, or it never seemed like a good time to ask. But maybe he’d just needed to wait for the right moment to come along._

_“Can I draw you?” he asked softly, thumb smoothing over the skin of the hand he held._

_Natasha’s face slackened in surprise, eyebrows lifting. Clearly it wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but slowly a smile started to form on her face._

_She nodded. “Yes.”_

_They stayed together for hours. They had to be up at the usual early hour to give a debriefing and discuss how to track down Red Skull, but Steve didn’t care, and Natasha didn’t seem to either. They were sitting opposite each other, cross-legged, close enough that their knees knocked together from time to time. Steve had his notebook that he’d grabbed from his room. Natasha talked with him as he drew. She told him a little more about her time in the Red Room and stories about what little she remembered of her parents. She taught him some simple Russian phrases, promising more detailed lessons when they had the time. Steve told her stories about him and Bucky growing up in Brooklyn, about all the fights he got into and cold winter nights where Bucky had to stay over in order to help keep him warm. He told her about his mother, how kind and caring she could be, how much she did for him, how unfair he sometimes found it that he, with all his ailments, lived while she died._

_As he was working out he last kinks in his drawing, Natasha leaned forward and smoothed her thumb over the crease between his eyes, an affectionate smile on her face. Steve found himself smiling as she drew her hand back and he closed his notebook and set his stuff down. He met her gaze and, as if she read his thoughts, she closed the gap between them and kissed him. More confident than the first time, Steve lifted his hands to cup her face, momentarily forgetting that his fingers were covered in pencil and charcoal. They kissed till they were breathless, Steve’s heart hammering in his chest, blood positively singing as warmth rushed through him, from his ears to the tips of his toes._

_When he pulled back to look at Natasha, there were light smudges of black charcoal on her cheeks. He chuckled, attempting to wipe it away, “Sorry.”_

_She laughed softly, a slight shake of her head. “It’s okay.”_

_She brushed his hair back from his forehead, eyes twinkling with amusement and something more like desire._

_“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Steve said softly, unable to think twice about the words before he said them, though he knew they were true the second they left his mouth._

_Natasha pulled back a fraction of an inch, eyes widening just so as her body stilled. Tense and on high-alert, ready to run like a spooked animal. “Steve,” she warned, voice barely there._

_“I’m not saying that because I expect you to say it back, or to pressure you or scare you off or anything,” he said quickly, almost pleading her not to go, “I’m just being honest. You were so honest with me earlier, and I only want to return the courtesy. I’m not very good at this sort of thing either, but you’re willing to try and so am I.”_

_Natasha stared at him, her chest rising and falling a little quicker than before. He was sure that if he listened hard enough he’d be able to hear her pulse pounding. But then she took a breath, then another. Slowly, he watched her relax. She nodded. “Okay.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“You were being honest, like you said. It’s only fair.” A pause, then a mischievous smile as she nodded at his notebook. “So? You gonna show me the end result or what?”_

_Steve grinned, slowly handing the notebook over to her. As she flipped through the first few drawings—some doodles, others portraits of Bucky or Peggy or the other Commandos—Steve couldn’t help but notice how close they still were. If he leaned forward two inches he could kiss her again. One move and she could be in his lap. He was mesmerized by her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he wished he could freeze the moment so he could draw her like that. When she got to the picture he’d drawn of her, Steve simply watched her features change, shifting into that of pleasant surprise, if not a little awe. Steve felt a little blush creep into his cheeks._

_“Pretty impressive,” Natasha said softly, a smile on her face as she carefully closed his notebook and handed it back to him._

_“Still not as good as the real thing,” he teased._

_She laughed. “You know, Rogers, for not being very good at all of this, you can be a terrible flirt sometimes.”_

_He shrugged one shoulder. “Guilty.”_

_Natasha just shook her head, nearly failing as she tried not to laugh. “Come here.”_

_She hooked a finger through the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. As she took one of his hands into her own, tangling their fingers together, Steve thought that maybe Natasha was falling a little bit in love with him too._


	19. What Love Feels Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! With my longest chapter yet! Honestly, I didn't expect it to get this long, but this chapter really just wrote itself. This chapter has a really great Bucky and Natasha scene that's been one of my favorites so far in this story, so yeah! 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Red Room stuff, including very slight hints of non-con, abuse, etc. War-time violence and imagery. Adult situations at the end of the chapter, which you can skip over if that is not your thing. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback, it was really great to hear from so many of you! You guys are seriously the best, so thank you so so much for everything!
> 
> I'm working on the next chapter now, and will hopefully be getting it up within a week. I can say for sure now that the 40s flashbacks are nearing the end! Only 2 or 3 left? Either way it's a very short amount and then we'll be getting into the modern stuff which is the stuff I've been wanting to write since I thought of this story. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of me talking! Enjoy!!

_July, 1944_

_A week later and they had no leads on Red Skull. It was frustrating for everyone, given that they’d been so close to him, and were now back at square one. Gabe and Peggy had been spending quite a bit of time going through the files Natasha had retrieved from the train station. They had revealed old movements of the trains Hydra was using, which Gabe was trying to discern a pattern from. The few dates they’d gotten with new train shipments had gone to Steve, who’d set up missions to scout out the trains and their movements. They’d decided not to disrupt the train movements in order to keep Red Skull and Hydra in the dark about the fact that they’d actually managed to retrieve information from the station. Still, they could tell Red Skull was suspicious. Bucky and Dum Dum had gone out a few days ago, tracking a smaller train. They’d set up at a central location, but the train hadn’t shown up until two days after it was scheduled to. They just hoped that Red Skull delaying the trains meant he was just being cautious._

_Natasha headed into the women’s showers and started to peel off her dirty clothes, covered in mud and sweat as they were. She and Steve had just gotten back from a scouting mission themselves, having spent the last two days in muggy, muddy conditions. The train had passed through on schedule, carrying parts for something big_. _She knew Steve hated letting the trains and any Hydra goons it carried go, but if doing this helped them track the movement and patterns of the trains, maybe they catch up to a train that would lead them straight to Red Skull. Plus, Gabe was still tapped into their radio signals, and working out how to adjust if Hydra decided to change them up. Natasha knew they had a good chance at getting the upper hand, and Steve knew it too, which was probably the only reason he was okay not stopping the trains for good._

_As she pulled off her pants, something crinkled in the pocket. She found herself smiling as she remembered what it was. She sat down on the bench against the wall, pulling out the folded piece of paper, discarding her pants on the floor with the rest of her clothes. She unfolded the paper, smiling at the sketch of herself. It was ripped along the edges, and there were a few stains on the paper where mud had seeped into her pants. But the drawing itself was almost completely untouched. In it, she was sleeping. Steve had come to her room the night before their scouting mission. She’d just been on the verge of falling asleep when he asked if he could draw her. She’d mumbled a yes before her eyes shut. Then, the morning of their mission, he’d pulled her aside with a mischievous grin. He’d tucked the folded piece of paper into her pocket, touch like fire that made her heart beat faster out of anticipation. He’d told her to wait to open it until they got back, and now here she was, grinning like an idiot in the women’s showers._

_Natasha quickly peeled off her undergarments, then folded the sketch back up and placed it under her clothes where it wouldn’t get wet. She turned on one of the showers and stepped under the stream. She tried to take a quick shower, she really did. She had a report to write and she was starving. But thoughts of Steve distracted her. It had been a week since that first kiss. A week since he’d told her that he was falling in love with her. It had scared her when he’d first said that—_ terrified _her, actually. But he hadn’t expected anything out of her in return for saying that. He’d kissed her goodnight shortly after, giving her some much needed thinking space. Even though there really wasn’t much to think about. She’d kissed him. And it had felt_ good _. She’d done something for herself, and realized in the process that she wanted Steve, wanted to_ be _with Steve a lot more than she’d originally thought. So, the morning after their kiss, she’d gone to him and told him that she hadn’t changed his mind about him, relieving worries he would never have voiced to her._

 _And now here they were, a week later, and Natasha was more firm in her decision than ever. Looking back on her life, all that she’d been through in the Red Room, it was so hard to imagine the position she was in now. It sometimes felt like a dream. She could only imagine what her trainers would have said, what Brushov would have said. That she was weak, going soft. That she was not worthy of the title Black Widow. But whatever weakness they’d all seen in love, it felt like a strength to her. She and Steve didn’t work any less efficiently than before. In fact, a part of her thought they actually worked_ better _now than they did before. It was amazing what the loosening of some sexual tension could do._

_They hadn’t slept together yet. There’d been a lot of kissing, which Steve was getting increasingly better at since he was more confident. There had been some roaming hands, but nothing more than that. Natasha knew how much it meant to Steve, but she herself was also a little nervous to even go that far. She’d had sex before. They had trained her in the Red Room, not just to use her body as a weapon, but also as a tool. She was not just a killer, but a seductress, able to bend the wills of men with a touch of her fingers, a flutter of her lashes, a sultry smile. She had used sex as a weapon, and never once for her own pleasure. Her trainers had pointed their fingers and she would have a target. Sometimes those targets required a softer touch before she killed them._

_She’d lost her virginity to one of her younger trainers when she was seventeen. She’d kissed him out of the blue one day, still making it very clear what she wanted. It had been rough and unpleasant, leaving bruises on her hips for a week, but she hadn’t wanted it to happen out on a mission, much less her first real mission, and the trainer had always had a soft spot for her. Or maybe he’d just thought she was pretty. He disappeared shortly after that and she had no doubts that he’d been killed. She knew that her trainers, Brushov especially, had been…_ saving _her. Preserving her for some sick, twisted reason. Probably for himself. That had been one of her few acts of defiance in his clutches, and as unenjoyable as it had been, it had been her choice._

 _Then, of course, there had been Alexei. Alexei Shostakov, the son of one of her clients. She’d been eighteen, on her first mission undercover at the ballet school Alexei’s father ran. The first night she had danced in a show Alexei had caught her eye, and the dance turned into one for him, not for the crowd ooh-ing and ahh-ing at her performance. And that night, Alexei showed her what it felt like to have her body worshipped, cherished. Maybe she loved him. At least, she thought it was love at the time. She was so wrapped up in that feeling, in_ him _, that she got clumsy, careless. They were caught and Alexei, too, was killed. She never saw him again after that dreadful night where she, half dressed, had laid weeping on the dance floor of the ballet school. She could still see them dragging Alexei away as Brushov came and showed her exactly what loving someone got her._

_She didn’t want to expose Steve to any of that. She didn’t know if she loved Steve, or maybe was just afraid to admit it because the last person she’d felt this deeply for was now dead and buried in a shallow grave somewhere. If she and Steve took that step, he would see all of her bared to him. Every scar, every imperfection, inside and out. Her darkest corners would come to the light and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. There was no pressure, not from Steve. More often than not he was the one to slow things down when they were getting too heated. And for right now, his kiss, his touch, the times when he pulled her into a corner when no one was watching, it was enough._

_That was what Natasha held onto as she stepped out of the shower. Once she was toweled off and dressed in clean clothes, she grabbed something to eat and then she started working on her report for Phillips. She’d barely started when there was a knock on her door._

_“Come in,” she called, wiping her mouth as she finished the last of her meal._

_Her door opened and she smiled as Steve stepped inside. He, too, had showered and changed, hair combed neatly across his head. “Hey,” he greeted._

_Natasha shifted some things around on her bed to make room for him._

_“What’s up?” she asked._

_“I just had a debriefing with Phillips and Peggy. She and Gabe found a new Hydra base along the train tracks. Not too big, but it’s a few days travel from here. We leave in the morning.”_

_“Okay.” She paused, regarding his features. “Anything else?”_

_Steve blushed just the tiniest bit. Even after all the time they’d spent together in the last week, he still got nervous sometimes about doing any kind of flirting with her. “Did you like the sketch?”_

_Natasha leaned over with a smile, mouth barely a breath from his. “I loved it.”_

_Steve kissed her then, ran his hands up and down her sides like he was painting a picture. They kissed until she was breathless, and still more after that. Barely a thought in the back of her mind as Steve pressed his lips to her neck, Natasha decided she could finish her report later._

_-:-_

_August, 1944_

_Telling the others that she and Steve were together hadn’t even really crossed Natasha’s mind. They’d just been so busy that nearly a month had passed and it just hadn’t come up. She knew that Peggy and Bucky suspected something for sure, but no one had said anything. And she and Steve were too wrapped up in each other to even really think about telling anyone. She should’ve felt a little ridiculous. She was like a school girl, completely lost in Steve Rogers. He made her smile and laugh; she was practically giddy around him. And kissing him felt better than she could have imagined. Still, they were both smart enough to keep any displays of affection to themselves. Even if Bucky and the others suspected something, they had no idea how Phillips would react, so whether they were trying or not, they were keeping it under wraps for the time being._

_Or rather, they_ had been _keeping it under wraps._

_They were currently camped with a couple hundred other troops, some SSR, the rest a mix of soldiers from all over, though most were American or British troops. They were heading to France, in order to aid the allied armies. Red Skull had disappeared for the time being, and there hadn’t been too many Hydra soldiers on the move, so Phillips had gotten orders to send Captain America and his Howling Commandos to the front lines. Steve was making rounds around the camp, trying to keep the soldiers’ spirits up._

_Natasha had been sitting by the fire that the Commandos had built. They were laughing a little, but mostly the mood among them and everyone else in camp was pretty somber. They would reach the front lines tomorrow and they knew that not a lot of them would make it. There were at least two dozen men on watch, but that didn’t make any of them feel much better, Natasha included. She’d been trained her whole life in espionage, in getting information and killing in the cover of shadows. Not that she wasn’t capable of handling herself on the front lines—she’d spent enough time with Steve and the Commandos battling Hydra that she knew she was perfectly capable, but this was big. Bigger than anything she’d been in before._

_Her eyes kept finding Steve in the crowd. She could see him now, a few campfires over, giving that dazzling smile of his, making soldiers from all different countries feel better, a little bit of the tension loosening from their shoulders._

_“He certainly does have a way with people,” Bucky said as he took a seat next to her. They were close enough that their shoulders and legs bumped together. His presence immediately made her feel better._

_“He inspires them,” she agreed._

_“A lot of them are going to die tomorrow,” Bucky said softly, eyes on the fire in front of them. It was just a fact. They all knew it. It was making the air around the entire camp weigh down on everyone’s shoulders._

_“You think Steve’s ready for that? I mean, he’s leading all of them tomorrow.”_

_Bucky exhaled slowly. “He’s been in battles before. Some pretty big. He’s lost men before too, but that doesn’t make it any easier on him. On any of us really. But not all of us have the memory he does. I guarantee that he’s going to learn the names of every man here, and he’s going to remember the name of everyone who dies tomorrow.”_

_“You know,” Natasha said quietly, “h’s over there smiling and learning their names and doing whatever it is that Steve does to make people love him…and he’s winning them over. And because of that a lot of them are going to lay down their lives for him tomorrow. To protect him and what he represents. It’s not lying or manipulation on his part. I’ve done enough of that to know the difference. It’s just who is. And it’s not his fault, but he’s guaranteeing a lot of their deaths right now.”_

_There was a pregnant pause. Natasha’s eyes were locked on Steve, off in the crowd of laughing soldiers who were falling under his spell just as she had._

_“He knows that, too,” Bucky finally said, looking at her. She met his eyes. “Which is why he’ll do whatever it takes to protect as many of them as he can. And when he can’t, he carries that guilt around with him. And he uses that to fight back.”_

_Natasha cast her eyes down. “I don’t know how he does it.”_

_“I still haven’t figured it out and I’ve known him since we were kids.”_

_“How’d you two become friends anyway?”_

_Natasha looked up to see Bucky grin widely, teeth bright in the firelight._

_“To be honest,” he started, “I barely remember how old we were. I feel like I’ve known him since we were born. But, uh, it was after school one day and a fight had broken out. And Steve, being Steve, was in the middle of it of course. Half the school had gathered to watch. I remember I was standing there at the edge of the crowd, watching Steve who, at the time, was maybe fifty pounds soaking wet, going up against this kid who was twice, if not three times his size.” Bucky laughed a little at the memory, and Natasha found herself doing the same. “He had a split lip, was probably on the verge of an asthma attack. He had his little fists raised but this kid just clocked him. Steve went down and I could practically see the black eye forming right then and there.”_

_Bucky paused, eyes far away, still with that smile on his face._

_“Then what happened?” Natasha prodded._

_“He got up.” There was something so fond, so loving in Bucky’s voice that Natasha felt her eyes burn. “I watched as this tiny, frail little kid just…_ stood up _. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t about to get his ass handed to him. The other kid was so pissed that Steve was still fighting back. Probably woulda knocked Steve’s teeth down his throat but that’s when I stepped in. When I asked him later why he’d been fighting with that kid, and he just told me that he’d been bullying another boy, and someone needed to stand up to him. Which is exactly what he did.”_

_Watching Bucky’s face, hearing the absolute devotion in his voice, Natasha knew that even if blood separated him and Steve, nothing else did. Bucky looked at her, something so intense in his gaze that she probably couldn’t look away if she wanted to. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, “You’d die for him.”_

_“In a heartbeat.” There was no hesitation, and Natasha had absolutely no doubt that it was true. Because she felt the same way._

_“I would too, you know.”_

_“I know.” Bucky gave a little nod before something flashed in his eyes that even she couldn’t decipher. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know something has been going on between you two—”_

_Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but Bucky beat her to it._

_“I know Steve better than anyone, so I know when he’s acting differently. When he’s keeping something from me.” He looked at her pointedly. “So, when did it happen?”_

_Natasha looked at him a beat longer before taking a breath. She averted her eyes, though she didn’t know why. “We kissed a month ago. And things have just sort of grown from there.”_

_When she did look back at Bucky, she knew exactly why she couldn’t look him in the eye when she said that. There was the tiniest flash of disappointment, of hurt and maybe a little heartbreak on his face. Deep down she’d known that Bucky felt something for her. She wasn’t exactly sure what, but they’d grown close in the past months. She confided in him almost as much as she confided in Steve and Peggy. Told him things she found she couldn’t tell anyone else because she knew he would understand. They were alike in a lot of ways, and whether or not Bucky had actual feelings for her, they were close enough that they didn’t really want to share whatever they had with anyone else. She probably would’ve felt the same way had their positions been reversed._

_Any guilt over telling him and any other conflicting feelings disappeared when Bucky grinned. “I knew something was up,” he said, looking at her. “Peg and I kept guessing. Steve’s just been so damn giddy lately. He’s been trying to hide it, but he’s never been very good at that sort of thing. Wears his heart on his sleeve no matter how hard he tries not to.”_

_“I know we probably should have told you guys—”_

_Bucky shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I think we all kinda knew you two were heading that way. It was really only a matter of time.”_

_“So you’re not surprised?”_

_“Not even a little bit.” Bucky laughed a little, giving her a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners._

_“I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up,” she admitted._

_“You won’t,” Bucky assured her, sounding absolutely confident in his response._

_“How can you be sure?”_

_“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he said simply. “Even if you haven’t said as much yet, even if you haven’t realized it, you love him. If you didn’t you would’ve left a long time ago.”_

_Natasha didn’t know what to say. She kept her eyes on the fire in front of them, even as Bucky continued._

_“I also know you well enough to know that something’s holding you back,” Bucky told her. Natasha’s heart clenched a little in her chest because she knew it was true. “And if it’s your past that you’re worried about…what happened to you, none of that is your fault. You didn’t ask for any of that to happen to you. Steve knows that and he won’t judge you for it. So you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself either. Just…don’t hold back.”_

_Natasha felt tears burn in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. The last thing she needed to do was cry when she was surrounded by hundreds of strangers._

_She met his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”_

_Bucky grinned. “Just really, really lucky, I guess.”_

_She laughed softly, nodding. “Guess so.”_

_As she tucked further into his side, he pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. As her eyes found Steve again, she knew she was stuck with both of them. Her boys…how incredibly lucky she was to have both of them._

_-:-_

_September, 1944_

_Natasha’s ears were ringing. Her head felt heavy as she tried to lift it, vision refusing to focus. She was pretty sure someone was shouting her name, but it was hard to tell when her skull felt like it had taken a sledgehammer to it. As she coughed up dust and tried to move, she could only think about France. They’d been there a month ago now, and she could still hear the bombs echoing in her ears, the constant sound of gunfire. She could still see the countless number of bodies on the ground, some with eyes wide and vacant, others who could have been sleeping if they didn’t have bullets in their skulls or gaping holes in their chests. Then there had been the dozens, hundreds more injured. Men screaming as they clutched the bloody, mutilated stumps of arms or legs that had been blown off. So many of them had been covered in blood, scarlet coating their chins, covering their hands as they tried to keep the blood in their bodies. And it was on both sides. The line between good guys and bad guys had blurred, because Natasha had come across allied and German men alike, all crying or screaming for their mothers as they tried to keep their organs from spilling out onto the ground._

_She and all the other Howling Commandos had luckily made it out of that battle alive, but a lot of good men had died. She saw a lot of their faces in her dreams, even if she didn’t know all their names. More blood and more death to haunt her as she slept. Maybe she was dreaming now. Everything felt so hazy, out of focus. What had she been doing? Steve…Steve had been there… and Hydra, they’d been clearing out a Hydra base…they’d thought it was clear but then the explosion happened—_

_“Natasha! Get up! Get up, Nat!”_

_She gasped, pushing herself up slowly, the fog slowly lifting from her mind. She blinked a few times, found herself staring down at the dirt._

_“Natasha.” Steve fell to one knee in front of her, reaching out to her. She braced her hands against his forearms, let him help her rise._

_“You good?” he asked, eyes flooded with relief. ._

_As she processed his words, she looked around them. The building they’d been in was half demolished, chunks of stone wall still falling from its now crumbling structure. The ground around the building was smoking, debris burning in some spots. They’d had fifty men with them, and many of them were lying on the ground around the building, not moving. Before her mind could think too much more about France, she spotted Hydra soldiers making their way towards them._

_She looked back at Steve and nodded, voice thick as she said, “I’m good.”_

_“We need to move.”_

_They moved fifty yards away, regrouping with the other Commandos and soldiers just inside the line of trees that the Hydra base sat at the edge of. The only one not there was Bucky, who was up on higher ground as the sniper for their mission._

_“Is everyone all right?” Steve asked the group. A series of nods and mumbled affirmations was the answer he got._

_“What’s the plan, Cap?” Morita asked. He had a pretty decent gash across his forehead but his eyes were bright and clear. The rest of them were in similar states, cut up and dirty, but their faces were set with grim determination. Natasha saw one soldier in particular, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. His eyes were shining with tears, tracks down his dusty face. He was gripping his gun, ready to run at Hydra with all he had. Natasha was pretty sure his name was Thomas. He had a brother, Will, who’d also been on the mission with them. Judging by the look on Thomas’ face, Will was one of the men lying dead out there._

_Steve looked at each of the men in turn, his empathy palpable in the air. His jaw clenched, mirroring the determination in the faces of the soldiers in front of him. Natasha could practically see the gears turning in his head as his brilliant tactical mind laid out a plan that would best stop Hydra and get as many of them home as possible._

_And after he was done relaying that plan to everyone, he gripped his shield in his hand. “Watch each other’s backs. Let’s go.”_

_Hours later, they were back on base, having wiped out Hydra’s forces. They figured the reason for the ambush was because they were getting close to Red Skull. But they’d still come out on top. They’d lost a few more men in the melee, but Natasha was glad to see that Thomas made it. As she’d made her way down to medical, she’d seen him twisting his brother’s dog tags in his hands, fresh tears slipping quietly down his cheeks as his friends surrounded him, putting him out of sight._

_It was chaos around base. With them coming back from their mission, there were dozens of questions about the ambush, what had caused the explosion (a fire Hydra set to some old ammunition as far as they could tell), how many dead and wounded there were. The injured in question were being pushed down to medical. It seemed like every nurse on base was there, attending major and minor wounds. As Natasha was told to sit on a hospital bed, she caught sight of Bucky. Their eyes met briefly before he was tugged away. Natasha had looked for Steve, but he was surely being asked to report to Phillips and some of the higher ups, especially considering the only injuries were some scrapes and bruises he’d gotten when the explosion went off._

_Only after an hour or two did things settle down. The nurses had finished bandaging and wrapping the worst of the injuries. Natasha had luckily been given a chance to get cleaned up with a quick shower before the nurses checked her out. She had a concussion, unsurprisingly, a bandage around her right bicep where she had a pretty nasty gash that she’d gotten during the explosion. Other than that, it was just a lot of scrapes and bruises, same as everyone else. Morita, who was in the bed next to her, had a bandage around his head. He had some pretty severely bruised ribs as well, so he wasn’t moving much. He was flirting instead with a nurse that was sweet on him. Natasha watched as she smiled big, teeth white against her dark skin._ Carolyn _, Natasha thought, remembering the girl’s name._

_When Carolyn went to go check on another patient, Natasha leaned over towards Morita. “So, when’s the wedding?”_

_He blushed, turning his head to look at her. “You’re just as bad as the others.”_

_Natasha laughed._

_“Besides,” he continued, “I don’t really think you should be talking, since you’re sneaking off into corners with Captain America when you think no one’s looking.”_

_Now it was Natasha’s turn to blush. Steve hadn’t been surprised when she told him that Bucky knew about the two of them, and after France, she and Steve had let Peggy and the rest of the Commandos know that they were involved. It didn’t come as a shock to anyone, but they’d all promised to keep it on the down-low. But that didn’t mean the others didn’t tease them incessantly._

_“Speak of the devil.” Morita grinned._

_Natasha shifted in bed. Steve had changed out of his Captain America uniform into dark trousers and a lighter standard issue button down, the top button undone to reveal the base of his throat. The corner of his mouth quirked up in relief when he saw her, his long legs carrying him over to her bed in just a few strides. Natasha was pretty sure she saw Morita roll his eyes with a laugh, but her attention was on Steve._

_He sat on the edge of her hospital bed, eyes scanning over her. “How’re you doing?”_

_“I’m fine,” she assured him, giving him a soft smile. “I’ve got a pretty bad concussion, so they want to keep me here tonight, to keep an eye on me.”_

_Steve nodded in understanding. He seemed to be holding back from saying something else, something serious from the look in his eyes. But she could tell whatever he wanted to say to her he wanted to do so in private. Her stomach fluttered, both with nerves and anticipation._

_“I wish I didn’t have to stay here tonight,” she whispered. She and Steve had to take whatever time they could get to be alone, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they were sent off on their next mission, once all the Commandos were fit to go out. And, if nothing else, she wanted to be with him while she slept. Her nightmares lessened whenever she was with him, his warm presence like a balm for the demons in her head._

_Steve’s gaze fell heavy on her, both in desire and understanding. “Me too.”_

_“You should probably go.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s too tempting having you here. Plus I think Morita is feeling left out.”_

_“I heard that,” Morita chimed in. “Seriously though, please leave. You two are quite nauseating.”_

_Steve chuckled. And though he couldn’t kiss her in a room full of people, lest they start a flood of gossip, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you in the morning.”_

_“Night,” she said as he got up to leave, casting one more look at her over his shoulder before he disappeared out the door._

_-:-_

_“How’s Natasha?” Peggy asked as Steve walked into his room. He was only mildly surprised that she was there waiting for him. She had always been able to tell when he needed to talk, even if he didn’t realize it himself. He moved to sit next to her on his bed. She was wearing something similar to him, trousers and a button-down, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Her toenails were painted red to match her nails._

_“Good,” Steve responded as he exhaled. “She doesn’t really want to be there, but there’s not much she can do about that. Meredith is on duty tonight. I’m not even sure Natasha could convince her to let her leave.”_

_“Ah.” Peggy nodded in understanding. Meredith was the oldest nurse on base, in her fifties, about a foot shorter than Steve, and severely committed to her patients. Which meant she would do everything in her power to help save someone’s life, but it also meant that she could scare the living daylights out of someone if they were being a bad patient. Dum Dum had tried sneaking out of the infirmary two months ago and she’d put the fear of God in him. As well as threatened to shoot him with the pistol she kept strapped to her ankle._

_“How are the others?” she asked._

_“They’re good. Morita has some pretty badly bruised ribs. Depending on when the Colonel sends us out next, he might be stuck here on bedrest, which won’t make him happy.” Steve smiled a little and Peggy gave a short chuckle. “Everyone else is okay. Banged up, but…”_

_Steve trailed off, staring down at his hands. Peggy touched his cheek, getting him to look at her. "I know that look,” she told him, dropping her hand to grip one of his own, “I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened today, but it’s not your fault.”_

_Steve shook his head, clenching his jaw. “I should’ve seen it coming.”_

_“No one, not even you, knew Hydra was going ambush you—”_

_“But we’ve been ambushed before, and I should have taken that into account when planning this mission. We had fifty more men with us today. Twenty-three of them didn’t make it. And Hydra…they’ve been getting more desperate, and I…I_ should’ve known— _”_

_“Steve, stop,” Peggy cut him off, voice firm but soothing. She squeezed his hand. He took a breath, then another. “You can’t blame yourself. I know you are, but that’s not your guilt to carry. Bucky, Natasha, anyone else would tell you the same thing. Those men that died today, they knew what they were risking when they went on that mission with you. Everyone knows exactly what they’re risking anytime they step foot off this base. But they do it to stop this war. To stop Schmidt. The men that were lost today, they can’t fight anymore. So you’ll just have to do it for them.”_

_Steve closed his eyes, letting Peggy’s words sink in. It was just so soon after France. That battle….so many men had died. He could still see each and every one of their faces. And now twenty-three more were floating around behind his eyes, joining the dozens, if not hundreds of men he’d already lost under his command. Sometimes he wondered if the serum wasn’t a curse with all that it had given him. His near perfect memory was more helpful than not, but times like this, he wished he could just forget like everyone else._

_“You’re right,” he finally said, opening his eyes again and looking at her._

_Peggy shrugged a shoulder, fighting a grin. “I usually am. Especially when it comes to you. I know you, Steve. So don’t ever be afraid to come and talk to me.”_

_Steve leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured as he pulled back. “I’m really lucky to have you.”_

_The look Peggy gave him was so fond, brown eyes sparkling, red lips curved into a soft smile. “And I you.”_

_Just over a year ago, Steve had been in love with Peggy. It wasn’t even really crazy to think about, not with how close they still were. He knew that, in another life, or maybe with just a different turn of events, he and Peggy would’ve been together. They would’ve seen it through to the end of the war, gotten married, had a couple of kids. They would’ve had a good life together, he knew that. And he knew she felt the same way. They’d talked about it, even now that he was with Natasha. That’s just how close they were, and Steve would forever be grateful that she was still in his life, still knew him and his heart as well as she did. Peggy had cared about him when he’d been skinny and frail, and she was one of the few people he could go too when he still felt that small._

_Peggy stayed for a few more hours. Steve sketched, she snagged one of the books off his bedside table and read. They talked in between, laughed, just spending time together until night settled in and the base quieted down._

_“I should go,” Peggy finally said. “I’m sure the Colonel will want us all up bright and early to start planning the next mission.”_

_“Oh, I have no doubt about it.” Steve grinned._

_Peggy leaned over and kissed his cheek, patting the same cheek with her hand as she pulled back. He smiled at her as she slid out of his bed._

_“Goodnight, Steve.”_

_“Goodnight, Peggy.”_

_-:-_

_When Steve opened the door to his room Natasha could tell that he was surprised, but glad to see her. Natasha was a little surprised herself, given it was the middle of the night, and he looked far more awake than he should have._

_“What are you doing here?” Steve whispered, even as he pulled her into his room and shut the door. The covers were a mess on his bed, and the lamp on his bedside table cast the only illumination throughout his room._

_Natasha gave a little shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. My nausea went away and my head hurts a little less, so I checked myself out.”_

_Steve shook his head, but he was smiling. “I guess the more important question is how did you get past Meredith?”_

_She grinned devilishly. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, Captain. That would ruin the fun.”_

_“Well, it’s not going to be very fun when Meredith starts busting down every door in this place to find you.”_

_“Guess you’ll just have to hide me here for the night then.”_

_Steve gave a soft chuckle and pulled her into his arms. She tucked her head against his chest, already feeling more relaxed than she had in the infirmary. She’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep even though she was exhausted. Morita had passed out early, but even the rhythmic sounds of his snoring hadn’t been enough to lull her into sleep._

_“You sure you’re all right?” Steve asked her softly._

_“Yeah.” Her response was muffled against his chest. She pulled back enough to be able to look at his face. “But you’re not.”_

_“Nat—”_

_“Come on, Steve,” she interrupted quietly, “I know when something’s bothering you. What is it?”_

_She already guessed the problem. His silence and the flash of guilt in his eyes was enough to tell her that her hunch was correct. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Those men dying today, that was not your fault, Steve. You didn’t know. None of us did.”_

_He was silent for a beat longer. His eyes found hers as he wrapped his hands around her wrists. “You almost died today, too. I lost sight of you and I just—”_

_“Hey, hey,” she soothed as he took a steadying breath. “I’m fine. I’m still here. I’m still here, Steve.”_

_He nodded slowly, bringing her hands down from his face so he could tangle his fingers in hers. “I know, I know. I just…I don’t want to lose you.”_

_“You won’t,” she promised. For some reason, the words Bucky had said to her a month ago flashed in her mind._ Don’t hold back. _Ever since she met Steve, she’d worked hard to shed some of the layers of her past and be a better person. She wanted to be the person he had found so worth saving, even in the beginning. Now that she was with him, she wanted that more than ever. She’d spent so long being taught that love was a curse, a weakness, but how could that be so given how she felt? Bucky was right. She shouldn’t hold back._

_Natasha scanned Steve’s face. Her lips parted slightly, stomach flooding with butterflies. She slowly released his hands, traced her fingers teasingly slow up his arms. She kept her gaze locked with his the entire time, but she could feel him, feel his body tighten and react to her touch, could hear his breath hitch as she reached his neck, curving her arms around until her fingers were sliding through his hair. Steve’s hands settled on her waist, his touch burning even through the fabric of her shirt._

_Natasha leaned up and kissed him then, sealing her mouth firmly over his. He kissed her back immediately, hands tightening minutely around her waist. Warmth shot through Natasha’s veins, straight down her spine, then lower._ Yes _, some part of her brain sighed in contentment. She was ready for this. Steve’s lips parted her own, and Natasha gasped softly against his mouth as his tongue traced her lower lip. She tugged harder at his hair, their bodies pressing together as Steve walked her backwards until she hit the door with a soft thud._

_Any residual pain in her head from her concussion was forgotten as Steve moved his mouth down to her jaw, teeth scraping lightly. She barely had time to suck in a much-needed breath before he was moving lower, planting wet kisses to her neck, the base of her throat, then pushing aside the fabric of her shirt to kiss her collarbones._

_“Steve,” she gasped, bracing one hand against his bicep._

_He pulled back to look at her. His blue eyes were dark with desire, face lightly flushed, hair mussed from her constantly running her fingers through it. Still, despite the heat of his gaze, there was such adoration in his eyes that it made her Natasha’s knees weak._

_She captured his lips with her own, moving her hands to push them up under his shirt, thumb pressing over the spot where he’d been shot a month ago, the skin smooth and unmarred now. He sucked in a breath, a low groan sounding against her mouth. Every nerve in her body responded to the sound and Natasha shivered, kissing him a little harder, fingers pushing his shirt up higher as she traced over his muscles._

_“Natasha,” Steve whispered suddenly. His voice was rough, strained. He gently wrapped his hands around her wrists, stilling her movements. “Natasha. If…if we don’t stop now, I—”_

_“I want this,” she assured him quickly. “I want you.”_

_Steve stared at her for a moment. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “Are we ready for this?”_

_Natasha nodded. Any doubts she’d had before about giving herself over to him fully had completely vanished. “Yes. I mean, I am if you are. If you want this, that is.”_

_“Yes, I—yes.” Steve nearly choked on the words he tried getting them out so fast. He kissed her quickly, then pulled back again, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m ready for this. I just…you should know that I’ve never—I haven’t—I mean I hope it’s okay that…I’m a virgin.”_

_Natasha nearly smiled. Or cried. Her emotions were all over the place at the moment. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. She licked her lips, voice barely above a whisper as she spoke, “As long as it’s okay that I’m not.”_

_The second before Steve responded seemed to last a lifetime. “Of course it’s okay. I want you exactly as you are,” he said, and there was no doubt in his voice. He meant every word he said, and she could tell. Natasha almost_ did _cry then. Instead she kissed him, crushing her lips to his._

_She wasted no time in undoing the buttons on his shirt before she pushed it off his shoulders. Steve let go of her long enough to pull his arms out of the sleeves before letting the garment fall to the floor, his dog tags rattling against his chest. She touched those first, heated fingers against the cool metal. She obviously knew Steve had dog tags, but she’d never seen them fully—it had always just been the hint of the chain, glittering underneath the collar of his shirt. Now she let her fingers brush over his name, stamped firmly into the metal. Steve watched her every move, eyes sparkling._

_Natasha moved her hands, running them over every inch of exposed skin, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as his hands settled low on her hips. The pads of his fingers pressed into her flesh where the hem of her shirt had ridden up, but they moved no further. They were ready for this, she was sure of it. But it didn’t mean Steve wasn’t still nervous. Sensing his hesitation, Natasha took the lead._

_She pushed her hands lightly against his chest until he got the memo and stepped backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed. He stumbled a little, sitting down abruptly. His eyes, wide with awe and a little nervousness, hadn’t left her face and she let out a little laugh, leaning down to kiss him again. As she stood between his legs, she felt him shift as he kicked his shoes and socks off. Natasha braced her hands against his bare shoulders and swung herself onto his lap. He sucked in a breath as she straddled him, hips pressed against his own._

_He faltered, lips breaking from hers as she went to pull her own shirt off, “_ Natasha _, wait, I…”_

_She paused, cradling his cheek with one hand so he looked at her. “I know,” she soothed quietly, kissing him once, softly. “I know. It’s okay. I’ll show you.”_

_Another gentle kiss, then another, and finally he relaxed under her touch again. He kissed her back more passionately, fingers tangling in her hair. Natasha made a soft noise in the back of her throat. She pulled back just long enough to slowly reach down and lift her shirt over her head. Steve’s eyes tracked her movements, mouth slack as he took her in. She was wearing a plain white bra, nothing spectacular, but he seemed awed nonetheless. She knew she was covered in bruises and scrapes, the biggest being a bruise the size of her fist on her left flank. As if he could sense her thoughts, Steve reached up and gingerly brushed his fingers over the tender skin, his other hand skimming the edge of the pristine white bandage that covered the injury on her right arm. She hissed softly, feeling a pang of doubt. He wasn’t even seeing all of her scars right now, and certainly not the worst of them. What would he think?_

_Steve was looking at her torso, running his fingers over every bruise, every cut, every scar, fingers so, so gentle despite the strength and roughness of his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered suddenly, catching Natasha off guard._

_When she didn’t say anything, he tipped his head up to look at her. She didn’t want to believe him—it would’ve been easier. Despite all they’d been through, despite their current positions and lack of space between their half-naked bodies, it still would’ve been so easy to shut down, to recall her training and not believe a word that came out of his mouth. But this was Steve. There was absolutely no hesitation, no doubt in his words. He thought she was beautiful and he meant it._

_Natasha kissed him._ God _, she would never get tired of kissing him. His mouth was so soft, the press of his lips to hers gentle and firm at the same time. As his tongue licked at the seam of her lips, Natasha reached a hand between them, taking one of his own and guiding it up her body until he was cupping her breast in his hand. His intake of breath was sharp, hips twitching up towards hers._

_“Natasha,” Steve breathed. He brushed a thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her bra, and she sighed as it hardened underneath his touch. A second later she was discarding her bra too, dropping it on the floor somewhere beside her shirt. Steve’s hands were roaming freely now, fingers dancing over her naked breasts, teasing at her nipples. Without any direction from her he leaned down and took one of the buds into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his other hand flattened over the small of her back, keeping her in place. Natasha let her head fall back, soft sighs slipping past her lips. Steve’s mouth switched sides. Natasha’s desire coiled tight within her. She felt teeth graze against her sensitive skin and gasped louder than before._

_Natasha could fake desire; it had been part of her training. But this, she couldn’t fake this even if she tried. His touch, his mouth on her skin, it made her come alive. Her heart beat hard against her ribcage, stomach twisting and curling and dancing with her desire. Every touch had her wanting more, more, more. Every sound that spilled past her lips was her own. Steve elicited another such noise from her and she had to grip his arm in order to steady herself. There was a hint of pride in Steve’s eyes when he broke away and looked up at her a moment later. His cheeks were flushed, mouth swollen. Natasha smiled at him as she slid off his lap. He looked like he was about to protest, but then she kneeled in front of him and started undoing his belt and he shut up real fast. Steve was breathing hard, watching her every movement._

_“Nat,” his voice sounded strangled, fists curling into the crisp sheets of his bed._

_“Lay back,” she ordered him softly._

_He did as she asked. He didn’t really fit, laying perpendicular to the bed as he was, but it allowed Natasha to kneel between his legs, and Steve didn’t really seem to mind. He was too focused on her, the movement of her hands as they finished undoing his belt. She tugged on his pants and he lifted his hips off the bed so she could more easily pull on his slacks. She tugged them down with his boxers in the same movement. And once she had finished untangling the fabric from around his legs, he was left completely naked. The golden light from his lamp danced with the shadows across his skin. Natasha tried not to stare too much. She could see Steve blushing, skin flushed pink as he breathed hard, gauging her reaction. Still, she allowed herself to look for a moment. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it—_ this _—before, about being in this position with him, about the serum and what it had done to him, physically, and if it had applied to every part of his body. And, well, it truly was just as impressive as the rest of him._

_Steve sucked in a sharp breath as she touched him, just a graze of her fingers against his length. “Oh, god.” His voice was wrecked already. “Nat.” Then she gripped him more fully, pumping her hand slowly up and down before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the underside of him. The sound Steve made went straight to Natasha’s core. His lips were parted, eyes shut, hands threatening to rip the sheets with how hard he was gripping them. He was beautiful like this, truly, and for a moment, Natasha was overwhelmed. She would never, for as long as she lived, forget how he looked when he was completely at her mercy like this._

_Just a few more quick twists of her hand and he was gone, groaning lowly as he came. As he lay there panting, Natasha stood, knees aching slightly in protest. She went over to his dresser and grabbed one of the neatly folded towels off the top of it. Steve had adjusted himself so he lay lengthwise on the bed, eyes tracking her as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him and wiped him up. He was still breathing hard, and Natasha’s skin was still heated, the pressure between her legs a little hard to ignore, but this was as much about him as it was about her._

_Discarding the towel, she grabbed Steve’s canteen next and handed it to him. He sat up enough to swallow a few mouthfuls before handing the container to her. She gratefully took it, taking a moment to drink before twisting the cap back into place. She’d barely set the canteen down before Steve was lightly tugging on her wrist until she was curled into his side. He kissed her soundly, deeply._

_“Thank you,” he murmured against her lips, circling an index finger teasingly around her nipple as he spoke. She arched against him, a soft sigh spilling from her mouth. “That was…incredible.”_

_Natasha couldn’t help but smile as she leaned in to kiss him again. “You haven’t seen anything yet, soldier.”_

_“Then show me.” His eyes were so blue as he looked at her, his voice so soft, so full of awe and, if Natasha was being honest with herself,_ love.

_Natasha gave the tiniest nod of her head, letting Steve take the lead for a moment. He kissed her, shifting in bed until she was underneath him, his naked body like a furnace above her. His dog tags fell between them, settling on her chest as he crowded her space, nearly every inch of him pressed against her. He had one forearm braced beside her head, keeping him perched above her, his other hand drawing teasing lines across her abdomen, against the waistband of her pants which, she realized with some annoyance, were still on._

_Steve, seemingly able to read her mind, gave her a little grin before he moved down her body, lips pressing kisses to her skin as he went. She let out a moan when he kissed right below her navel, fanning the fire that was quickly building in her. His hands, so skilled at wielding his shield, were steady, certain as he unbuttoned her pants. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him slowly, almost reverently, strip her of the rest of her clothes. Then she was naked before him, every inch, completely bared to him. But he wasn’t fazed. “Beautiful,” he whispered, touching his fingers lightly to her left thigh where she’d been shot months ago. He kissed her other scars as he made his way back up to her mouth. When he found her lips again, she pulled him in close as her heart pounded madly in her chest._

_No one, not even Alexei, had taken such care with her body before. With Alexei she had been young, inexperienced, and they had always rushed, for fear of getting caught. But with Steve, it felt like they had all the time in the world right now. And he used every second he had, touching her, tasting her, making her feel at ease in her own skin in a way she never had before. He didn’t treat her like she was breakable—no, he knew her too well, knew how strong she was to treat her like some fragile thing. But he handled her with such care, like she_ mattered. _No one had ever treated her that way, and it made Natasha want to cry. She kissed him desperately, hoping to convey at least some of her feelings._

_As Steve settled back over her, careful so as not to crush her under his weight, she felt him brush up against the inside of her thigh. She moaned softly, Steve’s own breathing labored again as he moved to kiss her neck. He was hesitating, she could tell, uncertain of how to proceed. “Here,” Natasha reached between them and grabbed one of his hands, guiding it lower and lower to the apex of her thighs. Steve sucked in a breath at the same time she did when she showed him where to touch her. “Right there,” she gasped breathlessly, helping him circle his fingers a moment longer before letting go. “Just like that.”_

_Her head fell back against the pillows, hips lifting off the mattress as Steve continued working his fingers against her bundle of nerves. His movements, clumsy at first, started to even out. He really was a quick learner. Natasha wondered what he could do with a little more practice. She smiled at the thought, even as Steve experimentally slipped a finger inside of her. Not expecting it she gasped, then moaned hoarsely, her hands gripping the sheets they were tangled up in._

_After a month of being able to kiss her, touch her, learn all the little ways her body reacted to him, Steve was able to pick up on every signal her body sent out to him, so he slipped another finger inside of her, working them in between her folds even as his thumb pressed down on her clit. Natasha cried out. A tingle worked its way down her spine, toes curling in anticipation. She wanted—oh god, she wanted to come. But not yet—_

_“Steve, wait,” she gasped, reaching out a hand to halt his movements._

_He looked up at her, eyes widening just so. “Did I hurt you?”_

_“No, no,” she said quickly before smiling at him, tugging on his arm. He slipped his fingers out of her and she pulled him up so she could kiss him. When she broke away, she said, “You were perfect. But I want you inside me when I come.”_

_Steve swallowed, eyes darkening even as he blushed a little bit. The corners of her mouth curved up a little bit. So he wasn’t one for dirty talk. But she’d heard some of things that had come out of his mouth, so she was fairly certain she could change that. Just not tonight._

_Natasha met his eyes, kissing him softly. As she did so, she reached a hand between them, gripping his hard length. Steve sucked in a breath, breaking away from her lips to touch his forehead to hers. Slowly Natasha guided him between her legs. Her mouth fell open, forehead creasing as he pushed inside her, inch by inch. When he was fully seated inside of her, Natasha stilled for a moment, adjusting to the fullness. Steve was breathing hard, skin beaded with sweat. He pushed her own damp hair away from her face, before he nuzzled his face against her neck, pressing light kisses just below her ear._

_“Steve,” she breathed._

_He moved inside of her then. He started out slow, his movements unsteady, inexperienced, but with her own hips moving, helping to guide him in his rhythm, his pace evened out. His thrusts became more deliberate, came a little faster and a little harder. Natasha moaned, her hands moving up over his biceps, sliding through his sweat slicked hair, clawing at his shoulders. Steve was breathing hard, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. He kissed her there. And when she felt his teeth graze against her heated skin, she arched her back, pressing their bodies more fully together._

_Natasha was so close. She was burning alive at his touch, fire twisting its way down her spine, to her gut, lower. Steve’s name fell from her lips like a prayer. And as he reached a hand between them, circling his fingers against her until she tipped over that edge she’d been hovering on, Natasha swore that it felt like heaven. She cried out with her release, and as she tightened up around him, she dragged Steve over that edge too, spilling inside of her with his climax. He groaned, low and deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through her as he worked them both down from their highs._

_For a moment the only sounds in the room were their breathing. Then slowly Steve pulled out of her. Natasha slid her hands lazily down his arms, across his chest. Steve moved just as leisurely, taking his time to kiss her swollen mouth. When he finally pulled back enough to meet her eyes, she smiled at him. His responding smile was instantaneous, bright. He gave a little laugh as he rolled them over onto their sides, pulling the sheet over their sweaty bodies. Even as they settled, finished off Steve’s canteen of water, Natasha’s heart was still beating hard. She wondered if Steve could hear it, wondered if his blood was singing in his veins just as much as hers was._

_“Natasha.” The way he said her name was enough of an answer._

_As she settled into his arms for the night, Natasha wondered briefly if this was really what love felt like. When she drifted off to sleep, Natasha pondered that question while wrapped up in his warmth. Not a dream disturbed her._

_-:-_

_“I want to take you to New York.”_

_“Mm,” Natasha hummed against her pillow. She was on her stomach, Steve tracing idle patterns on her back as she slowly woke up. She twisted her head to look at him. God, she thought he’d been beautiful last night but now, in the morning, he was almost even more so. “I’ve never been to New York.”_

_“You’ll love it,” he told her, eyes bright and excited. “When this is all over, we’ll go. I can show you around Brooklyn, where Buck and I grew up. There’s this candy shop we definitely have to go to. And Coney Island, too.”_

_Natasha smiled, but then it faltered. “You really think we’re going to make it out of this?”_

_Steve lifted a hand to gently stroke her cheek. “I’m pretty optimistic about our chances. And if not….”_

_Natasha didn’t allow him to finish that thought, because that was not something she wanted to think about. Not after last night. It had been perfect, and she didn’t want to ruin it. “So, New York?”_

_Steve, not a fool, knew she’d changed the subject, but smiled at her anyway. “New York,” he said in affirmation. “I’ll take you there. I promise.”_

_“And after that?”_

_“Anywhere you want. Anywhere you go, I’ll follow.”_

_Natasha smiled, heart fluttering in her chest. ‘That sounds perfect.”_

_Steve beamed. “It’s a date then.”_

_Just as Steve leaned in to kiss her, there was a loud knock on the door. Natasha jerked back, startled._

_“Shit,” Steve muttered, nearly falling out of bed. “Shit, shit.”_

_Natasha sat up and pulled the sheets from his bed tighter around herself as Steve searched for his pants. He hastily pulled them on, buckled his belt, and then grabbed a clean t-shirt from his dresser. When he was halfway presentable, he went to the door and opened it just enough that he could see who it was._

_“Colonel Phillips,” Steve said in greeting. Natasha saw his back straighten. She hardly dared to breathe._

_There was a moment of silence and Natasha could practically see Phillips looking Steve over, assessing. Finally, “You were supposed to be in the council room for a debriefing ten minutes ago, Rogers.”_

_“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I…overslept.”_

_Another moment of silence. “Just don’t let it happen again. I expect you to be presentable with your ass parked in a chair in five minutes.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_Steve was just closing the door when Colonel Phillips called out, loud enough for her to hear, “You too, Romanoff!”_

_Natasha couldn’t even move. Once the Colonel was gone, Steve quietly shut the door and turned to her, eyes wide. Then she couldn’t help it, she laughed. Steve cracked a smile, padding over to the bed. He braced his hands against the mattress, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his._

_“Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we thought,” she whispered, laughing some more._

_Steve’s eyes twinkled. He gave her a once over, and she knew he was going over every detail of last night. The smile he gave her was downright devilish. “Guess not.”_


	20. Hydra Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's me. Back after another year of not updating *wears face of shame*. Seriously though, guys, I'm so so sorry. I really didn't mean for this to happen. And I know, excuses, excuses. And I don't mean to make so many excuses, but honestly, life just gets in the way. I'm a senior in college now and things are just CRAZY. Last semester, especially, was just not a great one for me and I didn't do as much writing as I'd hoped. And then this summer I went on a trip abroad and then had computer troubles literally the rest of the summer. So, again, really really sorry about the lack of updates. 
> 
> I'm sure many of you are wondering if I've abandoned this story, and though it's (very) slow-going at times, no. I have not abandoned it. I just get caught up in life stuff and school stuff and work stuff and I don't always have time as I would like. There are so many things coming up in this story that I am so, so, SO excited for, and I can't wait to share them with you all. 
> 
> I'm working on the next chapter now. I've got a lot going on this semester, but I hope to update a little more frequently (and I really hope I didn't just jinx it by saying that). Anyway, until the next update, here's the LONGEST CHAPTER YET!! I didn't expect it get this long and then things just kept happening....I apologize in advance for all the angst *evil author laughter*. 
> 
> There's probably more I need to say, but for now I can't think of it so I will stop rambling and let you guys get to it! Any dialogue taken from Captain America: The First Avenger is not mine. 
> 
> Thank you, my lovely readers. Enjoy!

_Steve was glad that when he and Natasha walked into the council room, everyone else was too caught up in their own conversations to pay them much attention. They settled down in their usual seats, and Steve only risked a short glance at Bucky to see his best friend smirking and shaking his head, clearly holding back laughter and a slew of teasing remarks. He could feel his ears turning pink, but before he could dwell on it too long Colonel Phillips started the debriefing. Steve listened when he had to, spoke up when needed, but the rest of the time his mind wandered to the night before. Every kiss, every touch, every sensation, it was all there, beautifully burned into his memory. His heart thudded in his chest, hints of nervousness and anxiety creeping their way into his system, though he didn’t know why. He took a deep breath to steady himself._

_While Phillips discussed the time-table for the next mission—they’d be leaving bright and early the next morning—Steve’s eyes flicked over to Natasha. After a beat she turned her head and met his gaze. The tiniest of smiles made the corners of her mouth quirk up, and he started counting the seconds until he got to kiss those lips again. Her smile grew ever so slightly and he knew she was thinking about the same thing, the lightest shade of pink touching her cheeks. As Steve turned his attention back to the Colonel, he slid a hand under the table and found Natasha’s. His nerves slipped away as he felt her shift beside him and squeeze his hand back._

_Until last night Steve had known, of course, that Natasha was interested in him, in being with him, but he’d never been wholly sure if she’d wanted to take that step into something more. Maybe that had been more his nerves dictating his thinking, but still, the question had arose in his mind. But he hadn’t asked and hadn’t pushed about it because he knew that being with him even in the smallest way was a huge step for her. She’d wanted to take it slow and he was perfectly fine with that because he, too, had been nervous. But then, last night, when they’d kissed, something had just clicked. That little piece that had been holding both of them back had dissolved. Once he’d gotten over his initial uncertainty due to lack of experience, being with Natasha intimately was so comfortable, so natural. Steve knew it could be even better than it was. He still had a lot to learn, but despite his lesser experience and all, he and Natasha knew how to read each other, how to react, and there were times last night where they moved together as in sync as they did out on the battlefield._

_After the meeting, Phillips came up to where Steve was standing with Natasha, Bucky, and Peggy. He looked at Natasha first, and for a moment Steve was afraid he was going to say something about the state he’d found the two of them in that morning. “Romanoff, I had a very upset Nurse Meredith come looking for me this morning telling me that one of her patients had escaped last night.” Colonel Phillips paused, regarding Natasha for a moment, who stared right back, not giving away anything. “I suggest you make your way over to the infirmary, apologize_ profusely _, and get yourself cleared for duty if you want to go on this mission tomorrow.”_

_Natasha politely dipped her head. “Yes, sir.”_

_Steve met her eyes for a fraction of a second. They were twinkling brightly and his heart flipped in his chest._

_Peggy looped her arm through Natasha’s then, looking at Phillips. “I’ll make sure she gets to the infirmary, Colonel.”_

_Phillips nodded, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.”_

_“So,_ escaped _from the infirmary last night, did you?” Steve heard Peggy say as the two women walked away. Bucky chucked lowly under his breath, indicating that he’d heard it too. Steve looked back at the Colonel, and was met with the disgruntled, straight-faced look that Phillips often gave them. He and Bucky shut up real fast._

_“Anyway,” Phillips muttered after another agonizing moment of silence, handing Steve a stack of folders, “Rogers, since Morita, among others, will not be released from the infirmary for tomorrow’s mission, I’ve put together a list of names and their personnel files. I want a completed roster for the mission by lunch.”_

_Steve straightened, tucking the files under his arm. “Yes, sir.”_

_Phillips bobbed his head. “Good. Dismissed, both of you.”_

_Steve started following Bucky when Colonel Phillips called him back._

_“Sir?”_

_The Colonel leaned in close, lowering his voice. “As far as I’m concerned, Rogers, I didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything, I don’t_ know _anything. Some of the other higher-ups on base might not be so forgiving if they found out, so keep it under wraps. Understood?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Good.” And with that Phillips turned and headed towards the direction of his office._

_Steve watched him go for a moment, before turning and catching up to Bucky. His best friend slung an arm around his shoulders, which was a little harder than it used to be since Steve was now the same height. “So,” Bucky said with a huge grin, “since it seems the good Colonel is sparing you, we have_ a lot _to talk about.”_

_Steve just laughed and let Bucky lead him away from the conference room._

_-:-_

_“You got the corners tight and everything,” Bucky commented, clearly impressed as he swatted the end of Steve’s mattress. Steve watched as his friend plopped down on the bed, back against the wall, eyes bright as he purposely wrinkled up the bedspread. Bucky tossed the apple he’d snagged from the kitchen up in the air. “How’d you manage that? Phillips gave you, like, five minutes to haul ass this morning.”_

_Steve shrugged. “I can be quick when I want to.”_

_Bucky tipped his head back and laughed and Steve grinned. Bucky was still smiling huge when he looked back at him. “I hope that’s not what you said last night.”_

_Steve leaned over and snatched a pillow off his bed then threw it at Bucky. He caught it, unsurprisingly, but the end still managed to hit his face. Bucky just laughed it off and tossed the pillow aside, taking a bite out of his apple. Steve chuckled and shook his head, turning back to the personnel files on his desk. The rustling of papers and the crunch of Bucky’s apple filled the room._

_“I’m happy for you two, you know,” Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. Steve turned in his chair to look at him. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, taking another bite of apple. “Seriously,” he mumbled around his mouthful of food before swallowing. “I know Nat and I weren’t always on the best of terms, and I know there’s been some moments in the past where things have been weird and all that, but you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, even with this goddamn war going on, so…”_

_“Thanks, Buck,” Steve replied after a moment, not sure what else to say. But it seemed to be enough. Bucky gave him a genuine smile._

_As Steve turned back to the stack of papers in front of him, Bucky gave a little laugh. There was a moment of silence and Steve could only wonder if Bucky was going to voice his thoughts. “I can’t believe you told the Colonel you overslept,” his best friend laughed. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”_

_Steve, barely able to keep back his own laughter, threw a pen at Bucky, who easily swatted it out of the air. “Jerk.”_

_“Punk.”_

_They were both laughing again and Steve figured it would take a lot longer than it should to get his roster complete._

_-:-_

_Natasha met Steve and the other Commandos in the mess hall for dinner. She’d spent nearly all day in the infirmary getting a check-up and trying to convince Meredith to clear her for duty. She figured she’d grown on the nurse a little bit, or at least impressed her with her successful attempt at sneaking out, because Meredith actually offered her a smile when she’d left the infirmary not too long before. Peggy had been there with her, and they’d chatted with Meredith, swapping stories. As it turned out, Meredith had a family back home in America. She’d missed the birth of her first grandchild while she’d been overseas and though it upset her, once she and Peggy had gotten Meredith talking, the nurse had gushed about her kids and her family. Natasha thought that maybe that was part of the reason the woman not only cleared her for the mission tomorrow, but the reason she was so protective of her patients. Either way, Natasha was going so she didn’t care too much about the why._

_Peggy, during their hours in the hospital wing, had questioned and teased her constantly about Steve, until Natasha finally gave her some details about her night with him. It wasn’t much, but by the end of it, she knew she was blushing profusely, which she_ never _did. She was still so…_ giddy _. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but a welcome one._

_“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Peggy had told her earnestly. Natasha hadn’t said much in return, but she didn’t need to. She knew that Peggy could see it, plain as day. And Natasha could finally admit to herself that, yes, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. It made her smile._

_She was seated in between Steve and Peggy now, Bucky, Dum Dum, and Gabe across the table. The other Commandos—aside from Morita, who was still in the infirmary—were there too, chatting and laughing away._

_“So, Cap,” Dugan said, loud enough that the other conversations at their table quieted, but still discreetly enough that the other troops in the mess hall didn’t turn and pay them any attention, “we, uh, heard that you_ slept in _this morning.”_

_Dum Dum wiggled his eyebrows, looking back and forth between them, a huge grin appearing beneath his mustache. The other Commandos laughed and snickered. Natasha was fighting her own smirk as she looked at Steve. His lips twitched into half a smile as he ignored Dugan and looked directly at Bucky. “Did you tell everyone what I said?”_

_Bucky held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with this.”_

_The wink Bucky gave her when Steve wasn’t looking told her that he had_ everything _to do with it. She just shook her head and laughed quietly as the Commandos pestered Steve. He pretended to be annoyed, but before long he was laughing along with everyone else._

_Natasha turned and looked at Peggy._

_“Boys,” Peggy muttered, though she was smiling, too, brown eyes warm and bright with amusement._

_“Yeah,” Natasha said, half to herself as Gabe drew Peggy’s attention away. She pressed a little closer to Steve, meeting his gaze as he turned to look at her. His eyes were so full of adoration that Natasha’s heart fluttered in her chest. The smile he gave her was nothing short of brilliant. “Boys.”_

_-:-_

_Early October, 1944_

_Natasha giggled as Steve slipped an arm around her waist, tugged her into a corner and kissed her. She_ giggled. _She’d already come to the conclusion months ago that Steve had pretty much changed her life for good but, god, it was still a shock sometimes the effect he had on her. She never thought, in a million years, that_ Captain America _would make her giggle like a goddamn schoolgirl. But they’d been out in the field for the past week with barely a minute of alone time—which was fine given that they were fighting a war and they had responsibilities which meant they couldn’t just sneak off whenever they felt like it—but…well, sue her. She was a woman, a human, and she had wants and desires. They’d gotten cleaned up, eaten something, and then debriefed Colonel Phillips, and shit she barely made it through that meeting. Clearly, Steve had been on the same page because here he was, pressing hot and heavy kisses into her mouth in the corner of some hallway for everyone to see._

_“Steve, we should probably—”_

_“Yeah.” He kissed her again, then laughed along with her. “Yeah, come on.”_

_She took his hand and let him lead her back to his room. The second the door was shut, Steve was pulling her close, mouth slanting over hers. Natasha fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his own hands slipping beneath hers, his skin hot against her own. They’d only gotten to be alone like this a couple times since that first night and they could hardly kiss properly they were both smiling so big._

_Natasha finally succeeded in getting Steve’s shirt undone and she pushed it off his shoulders, letting her hands roam over his exposed skin. He gripped her waist tighter, groaning against her mouth. Before Natasha could even open her mouth to ask to move to the bed, Steve was sliding an arm beneath her, lifting her up and laying her down on his mattress, his body covering hers in an instant. The heat from his skin was ridiculous, wrapping around her as he braced his arms on either side of her, kissing her mouth thoroughly. As he moved down her body in order to pull her shoes and pants off, Natasha could only imagine what she looked like. Her shirt was rucked up, exposing her stomach. Her hair was a mess, fanned out against the pillows, lips surely swollen from all Steve’s kisses. Debauched pretty much covered it. She smiled, reaching for Steve as he kissed her now bare thighs. He had pulled off his own slacks and boots, leaving him in just his boxers, and her in not much more._

_Steve moved back up her body, leaving small, slow kisses as he went. His mouth traced the line of her boring, standard-issue underwear, hands teasing at her thighs, then up her waist, to the hem of her shirt. Natasha sucked in a breath, heat pooling between her legs. He kissed her stomach next, hand against her hip as her back arched, holding her in place. In just a few weeks, Natasha was amazed at how much more confident Steve had gotten. He still blushed sometimes, still got flustered about being with her intimately, but the occurrences of that were few and far between now. He was a quick study, and that apparently applied in places other than the field._

_Needing to touch more of him, Natasha tugged on his arm until he was hovering above her once again and pulled him down till she could kiss him. Still a little frantic, she kissed him hard, gripping his shoulders. He sighed against her mouth when she nudged his lips open with her own. Their hips were flush together and Natasha whimpered when she felt Steve’s length press against the inside of her thigh. Then, impatient, her hands were moving, gripping his shoulders, then down his sides until the she reached the hem of his underwear._

_Steve hummed against her lips, “Nat…Nat, wait.”_

_She pulled back, scanning his face. He was panting lightly, as flushed and breathless as she was. “What’s wrong? Did I—?”_

_“No, no,” he said quickly, softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth before pulling back again. “And I’m not trying to ruin the moment, I just…we haven’t really talked about it, protection, I mean, and I just would hate for something to happen, now of all times. I mean not that something couldn’t happen in the future if we wanted it to, and of course that’s something that can be talked about at a later date, but I just…”_

_He was babbling and he trailed off as he really looked at her. She could barely meet his eyes. She knew they should talk about protection at some point, but she hadn’t really thought about it until now. She hadn’t had to think about it since she was eighteen. But Steve wouldn’t know that so of course he would be concerned about her getting pregnant, during war time, no less. Natasha sucked in a breath, suddenly cold. She pushed lightly against his chest, and without word or explanation, Steve understood and leaned back, sitting up and moving away so she had room. She brought her knees up to her chest, still not meeting his eyes._

_“Nat, I’m sorry,” Steve said softly. “If I said something to hurt or offend you, that wasn’t my intention. Really. I just…we haven’t talked about any of this, and I don’t want anything to happen that we’re not ready for.” Natasha stayed quiet, biting her lip, hating the way her eyes burned. Steve leaned towards her, and this time she looked at him. “Please, Nat, if I did or said something wrong, tell me.”_

_Natasha shook her head, heart clenching in her chest._ He didn’t know. _That was the thought that keep going through her mind. All that she’d told him about her past, she’d left out the graduation ceremony. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered her, but soldiers so often talked about the girls they had back home, about how they were going to marry them as soon as the war was over if they hadn’t already, how they were going to start families. Steve had never brought up kids or families or even getting married, but Natasha was afraid of how he would react if he did want one and found out that she couldn’t give him that. And yet…in that moment, she wanted to tell him more than she’d ever wanted to tell anyone._

_“It’s not you,” she said finally. She swallowed, met his gaze knowing that he could see the tears forming in her eyes. He moved closer to her, so he could grab her hands where they were wrapped around her knees. “I haven’t brought up protection or pregnancy because I don’t need to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”_

_Steve’s brow furrowed, confusion lining his face. She could practically see his mind working at the puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together, but something wasn’t clicking. “What do you mean?”_

_Natasha took a deep breath and gave half a shrug. “I can’t get pregnant, Steve.”_

_She watched his face, noting the realization as it colored his features. But he didn’t shove her away, didn’t look at her with pity or scorn or disgust or any of the other dozens of emotions she’d expected when she finally told someone everything about her. Instead, he squeezed her hands. “Tell me.”_

_Natasha’s shoulders loosed some of their tension. She squeezed his hands back and took a deep breath, plunging right into it. “Um…in the Red Room, those of us who complete the training undergo a graduation ceremony of sorts. They sterilize us. It was the most efficient way to ensure that we weren’t at risk when it came to…_ those _kinds of missions, but it also guaranteed that the mission always came first.” Steve was quiet and before he got the chance to say something, Natasha spoke again, the words coming out of her mouth in a rush. “I mean it happened when I was eighteen, so I’ve had time to accept that I won’t have any children of my own, which is fine. Like you said, it’s not exactly an ideal time to start a family anyway. I don’t even know if I want one. And I…I was scared to bring it up because I didn’t know if you wanted a family or not one day, which I know we haven’t talked about, but…I wasn’t sure how you would react, and I just—I just didn’t want you to think there was something wrong with me—”_

 _“Hey, hey,” Steve soothed as her voice broke on the last words. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks and she frantically tried to rub them away as he tugged on her arms, pulling her onto his lap. It took a little maneuvering, but then her arms were wrapped around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. He rubbed a hand in between her shoulder blades for a minute, before leaning back, cupping her face in between his hands. “There is_ nothing _wrong with you. Nothing. And if you were afraid of how I’d react, you don’t have to be. This doesn’t change anything about the way I feel about you.”_

_Natasha swallowed thickly. Just a few months ago, she would have struggled to find it within herself to believe him, but now, all it took was a glance to know that he was being completely earnest. A few more tears slid down her cheeks and Steve used his thumbs to brush them away._

_“You are perfect,” he whispered, and a quiet sob slipped from her mouth. “What they did to you…that is_ not your fault. _And in no way does it make you any less of a woman, or less of a person. You are…” Steve took a breath, almost like he was overwhelmed by what he was going to say, “so beautiful. Just the way you are.”_

I love you _. The words were right on the tip of her tongue, and yet, she still couldn’t bring herself to say them. Not now, not yet. Not after what she’d just confessed. And somehow—god, how had she gotten so lucky?—Steve understood. He brushed away the remainder of her tears, and pulled her against his chest. His bare body was warm, and she gripped his arms, her sweaty palms sliding against his skin. A few more tears fell, mostly out of relief and happiness._

_Natasha turned her head from where it was tucked against his shoulder and kissed his neck. “Thank you,” she mumbled._

_Steve’s arms wrapped more tightly around her. He pressed his lips to her temple. It was the response that told her everything she needed to know. He understood, he was there for her, and they had all the time in the world. And in that moment she believed it. There was no rush to figure out anything, no rush to decide what they were, what their future was going to be like, if they wanted to get married or have a family or any of it. In that moment, it didn’t even feel like there was a war raging on beyond the safety of their base._

_So Natasha pulled back and she kissed him, soundly, sweetly. He kissed her back instantly, moving a hand up to brush the hair out of her face even as his other hand gripped her waist. Natasha shifted, laying back down and pulling him over her once again. For a moment, Steve just looked at her, eyes so full of yearning and adoration that Natasha’s heart swelled in her chest. Right then, she knew without a doubt that she was in love with the man before her, even if she wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud._

_Steve kissed her again, stripped the rest of the clothes confining them. He made love to her, his artists’ hands painting her like a canvas. He mapped her out with his fingers, pulling gasps and moans from her mouth as his touch covered her like the most vibrant of colors. Everything she saw as a flaw, all her scars and marks and bruises were painted over, blended in with the rest of her, so that what was red as the blood she was stained with was now blue, and what was black like the darkest corners of her head and heart and past were as glowing and beautiful as the rising sun, all yellows and pinks and purples, fleshed out by his mouth against her skin._

_As she fell asleep in his arms, Natasha felt wholly and utterly beautiful._

_-:-_

_Late November, 1944_

_They’d been out on the front for a month. When they finally rolled into base near the end of November after having spent the last four weeks up against Hydra and Nazi soldiers alike, they were all exhausted, dirty, and hungry. The number of Hydra bases was dwindling fast and the Nazi war machine was slowing down under the Allied advance, but there was still fighting to be done. Colonel Phillips had sent along a dozen men along with the Commandos and they’d only lost seven of those men, but the rest of them certainly hadn’t gone unscathed. Gabe had been shot early on, but had snuck back almost a week before he was supposed to in order to join up with them again on the front lines. Morita, too, after he’d been released from the infirmary had joined them for the last three weeks of their mission. Natasha remembered how they all laughed a little bitterly after he’d made a joke about staying on base a little longer after he, Dum Dum, and Bucky had nearly gotten blown to pieces by Nazis when they’d been under attack in a small, mostly deserted village._

_In that same village Natasha had been helping Steve get the remaining civilians out a crumbling building. She’d made it out with the last two women and turned around only to watch a shell hit the building. Her screaming had been muffled by the sound of one of the walls collapsing just as Steve was making his way out the front door. After they’d pushed the enemy back, they’d spent far too much time digging Steve out of the rubble. He’d been scraped up and bloody, with a dislocated shoulder and twisted ankle, but he’d had his shield, which probably saved his life. As dusty and filthy as he’d been, Natasha still had collapsed by his side as he’d laid upon the ground in order to catch his breath, kissing his mouth, salty with the tears she would have killed anyone for pointing out._

_Steve had been a little slower with his injuries in the days following, but he’d healed quickly, and continued to lead them in their remaining weeks off base. He was fine by the time they made it back, but Colonel Phillips had made all of them—even Steve—go to the infirmary and get checked out. Afterwards, Natasha showered and changed, got a little something to eat from the mess hall, and then settled into her room in order to fill in her reports. Just as she was tucking her papers into a folder, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, there was a knock at her door._

_“Come in,” she called._

_The knob clicked as it turned, and Steve appeared as he pushed the door open. Despite the tiredness that seemed embedded in her bones, Natasha found herself smiling. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as Steve shut the door and made his way over to her, bending down to kiss her softly._

_Natasha hummed contentedly as he pulled back. “Hi.”_

_Steve laughed softly. “Hi.”_

_“The nurses give you the okay?”_

_He nodded. “Yeah. Aside from the fresh scrapes and bruises, nothing of concern. They said my ankle and shoulder were both working as they should be.” He took a few steps back in order to take a seat on the edge of her bed. “Gave my report to the Colonel. Said he’d give us all tomorrow to rest, but then it looks like we might have some more orders coming in.”_

_Natasha bobbed her head. “That’s to be expected. With Hitler’s forces out of Paris and the rest of his armies being pushed back more and more by the Allies, Phillips is gonna want to make sure that we put a stop to Hydra too.”_

_“I know. And we will. Fortunately, though, we don’t have to worry about that anymore tonight.”_

_“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow._

_Without a word, Steve grinned, standing up once again. He slid a hand into his pocket. “I have something for you.”_

_Natasha stared at him, confused. She tried to say something, but nothing much came out. For a second, given the look on his face, the hand in pocket clearly grabbing something—she thought he was going to propose and she balked. The way she felt about Steve was something she’d never felt for anyone, but marriage—_

_“I’m not proposing, you know,” Steve said soothingly, a soft smile on his face. She met his eyes. Her shoulders sagged, breath releasing in a whoosh as relief flooded her chest. How he seemed to be able to read her thoughts still blew her mind sometimes. Steve chuckled. “You just looked really panicked all the sudden, so I just want you to know that I’m not proposing.”_

_Natasha swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I—yeah, go on.”_

_He smiled and finally pulled his hand out of his pocket. He opened his palm and revealed the bracelet nestled inside. Her breath caught in her throat. She recognized it as the identification bracelets that had become a trend back in the States. Some of the women on base wore them, too, most often as token from their lovers. Maybe it should’ve been a little cliché, but somehow it didn’t feel that way._

_Wordlessly, Natasha picked it up, weighing it in her hand. The chain was made of heavier, more durable links, both it and the tag made of silver. Across the front of the tag, like most other that she’d seen, was her name, stamped into the metal._

_“Flip it over,” Steve prodded gently._

_She did just that, revealing the black widow spider engraved on the back of the tag. Natasha took a breath. “Steve, I…I don’t even know what to say. I love it. Thank you.”_

_He smiled, pleased by her reaction. He gestured towards the bracelet. “May I?” she handed the bracelet to him, keeping her wrist out. He undid the little clasp and wound it around her wrist, fingers warm whenever they grazed her skin. Redoing the clasp, Steve slid his thumb once over her name where it was printed, before taking her hand into his. “Happy, birthday, Natasha.”_

_Natasha was pretty sure she was more stunned by that statement than the gift. She hadn’t even realized…the look on her face must’ve startled him, because his smile faltered._

_“It’s November 22 nd, right?”_

_“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes. I’m sorry, I guess I just forgot…”_

_Steve cleared his throat. “I know the bracelet isn’t much, but I wanted to get you a little something. We’ve talked with Phillips about signing you on officially, but it hasn’t even been quite a year yet and Brushov is still out there, but I figured this was the closest thing to getting you your own dog tags—”_

_“Steve,” she cut him off with a laugh, squeezing his hand, “It’s okay. I love it.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_Natasha leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss to his lips. “Yeah.”_

_“Well good,” he said after a moment, “because I’ve got something else for you.”_

_“Steve, I really don’t need anything else. I mean I wasn’t even expecting this,” she said, lifting her arm so the bracelet dangled around her wrist._

_“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He stood, pulling her to her feet._

_“Okay,” she relented, fighting a smile as she let him guide her out of her room and through the halls._

_It was late and base was mostly quiet, so Natasha was surprised when she heard chatter as they approached the mess hall. She didn’t even get the chance to ask Steve what was going on before they stepped through the doorway and all their friends turned, big smiles on their faces, and greeted them loudly._

_“Hey, Red!” Dum Dum stepped forward, grinning like a madman. “Happy birthday!”_

_Natasha was laughing as Dugan pulled her in for a hug. When he pulled back and decided to go dole out hugs to everyone else, she gave Steve an incredulous look. “A birthday party?”_

_He shrugged innocently. “Well, I wouldn’t really call it a party. There’s no cake or anything, but they all wanted to give you a little celebration. Plus, I think Dum Dum’s got something better than cake.”_

_He slipped a hand behind her, palm resting against the small of her back as they stepped over to the long table that the Commandos had occupied. The Commandos were out of their combat gear, but some of them still had knives and pistols strapped to their belts, ready at any moment to take new orders. From what Natasha could tell, though, none of them were really concerned with that. They were all smiling and laughing, carefree for the time being._

_“So, Little Red,” Dum Dum started, hands behind his back concealing something, “since it’s your birthday, we all helped chip in to find you a little something special.”_

_Natasha waited in anticipation as Dugan, of course, paused dramatically. Then from behind his back, he produced a bottle. It took Natasha a moment to figure out what it was before her jaw dropped. She stepped forward, gingerly taking it into her hands. The label was a little torn in a few spots, but she could still read the Russian font, boasting the name of the vodka. The seal was a little dirty but unbroken. Someone had even tied a shoelace around the neck of the bottle in an attempt at recreating a bow. “Where did you find this?”_

_Dum Dum shrugged. “Nazis may be bastards but I guess they have good taste in alcohol. We searched while we were out on the front these last weeks. Found it in one of those abandoned houses. A big one too.”_

_“Borrowed a couple of the nice glasses from the kitchen and everything,” Gabe said, leaning to the side so Natasha could see the glass tumblers laid out on the table behind him._

_“Well, it would be rude of me not to share,” she said. She broke the seal and opened the bottle, pouring it into the glass Peggy handed to her before passing the bottle along._

_She gulped the contents of the glass down, and hummed in contentment. The alcohol burned down her throat and buzzed in her veins and felt a little bit like home for a moment. “You guys did good. Refill, please.”_

_They chatted and passed the vodka around until there was only a third of the bottle left, wherein Natasha replaced the cap and set the bottle out of the reach of the Commandos. Turning to go back to the others, Bucky stopped her._

_“Hey,” he greeted with a smile._

_She grinned at him. “Hey.”_

_“Enjoying your party?”_

_Natasha looked at the bottle of vodka, then back at Bucky. “Very much so, yes.”_

_He laughed, and it made her happy to see him so carefree. Everyone, in fact, was a little looser, so much less tense than they’d been the past few weeks in the field. Dum Dum was regaling Gabe and Morita with yet another one of his stories, Falsworth and Dernier were conversing at the end of the table, sharing a flask they’d scrounged up somewhere, Peggy and Steve were at the other end of the table, smiling and laughing and looking absolutely worry free._

_“I have something for you,” Bucky said, drawing her attention back to him._

_“Oh, you really didn’t have to get me anything, Bucky.”_

_“Well, I promise I didn’t go to too much trouble. I just may have mentioned you and your upcoming birthday to my mother in my last letter.”_

_Natasha shook her head. “Why did everyone remember my birthday except me?”_

_“I promise I won’t make such a big deal out of it next time,” he joked, laughing._

_She nudged his arm lightly. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing. Just give it to me already.”_

_From inside his jacket he pulled out a folded piece of paper. Natasha could see writing and colors, but couldn’t make out much more until he handed it to her, and her breath caught in her throat. Scrawled in big, messy, colorful letters on the front it said_ Happy Birthday, Natasha!

_She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a card for her birthday. She had very vague recollections of celebrations before the fire, before her parents died. But that had been so long ago that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to actually have people remember and care. She wanted to attribute the warm feeling in her chest to the alcohol, but looking at the card, she nearly had to bite down on her tongue to keep from crying._

_“James,” she breathed, opening it up to see an equally sweet message on the inside. Underneath what was clearly a message from the kids was a much neater message from what Natasha assumed to be Bucky’s mother. At the bottom, they’d all signed their names—Rebecca, Frances, and Alice for the girls, Winnie for his mom._

_Bucky shoved his hands in his pocket. “I’ve written about you a couple times, and so when I told my ma that your birthday was coming up, well, she said the girls wanted to do something nice. We can’t really afford much, but they used the crayons at school and—”_

_“It’s perfect,” Natasha said quickly, meeting his eyes. She wondered briefly if he could see the tears starting to burn there. If he did, he didn’t say anything. “I don’t need anything else, this is…it’s beautiful.” She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around him as she held the card firm. “Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder._

_Bucky held onto her tight and she could almost hear him smile. “Happy birthday, Natasha.”_

_-:-_

_Not too much later, after the exhaustion made itself present on everyone’s faces again, did they all go their separate ways, everyone wishing her a happy birthday as they left. Bucky and Peggy were among the last to leave, and then it was just her and Steve. He carried what was left of her vodka, linking his other hand with hers. In her other hand, she held Bucky’s card from his family and a chocolate bar that Peggy had somehow gotten a hold of and given to her. Natasha suspected that Colonel Phillips had a part to play, but Peggy hadn’t said a word, all but confirming Natasha’s suspicions._

_Steve just laughed when she told him this, tucked against her in bed. “I think he likes you and is just too afraid to admit it.”_

_She hummed softly in agreement. She could feel herself drifting off, and the hand he was using to absently draw circles on her back wasn’t helping. She looked at the bracelet Steve had given her, still latched around her wrist. Once again, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he reached up with his other hand to touch the chain gently._

_“Thank you,” she murmured, tilting her chin up to look at him better. “For everything tonight.”_

_“You’re welcome,” he said, equally quiet. Natasha leaned up and kissed him slowly. When she pulled back, she closed her eyes and tucked herself further into his side. As sleep started to overtake her, she felt Steve press a kiss to her temple, lips gentle as he murmured, “Happy birthday.”_

_-:-_

_December, 1944_

_Come Christmas time, Hitler was making an effort to push through the Allied lines in the Ardennes Forest. News had flooded into base about the German offensive in Bastogne, and though some of it was exaggerated stories from a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy that fought there, the facts were pretty evident. The Allies were pushing back, but they’d taken heavy amounts of casualties before doing so. Hitler was getting desperate, as was Red Skull. They were getting close to figuring out the location to Schmidt’s personal hideout, and Natasha knew that it was making everyone antsy, just waiting for the intel they needed from their spies before they could go out again._

_“I wish we weren’t just sitting here twiddlin’ our thumbs,” Bucky said one night close to the holidays when they had gathered in the war room. It was mostly empty at this time of night, save for the few secretaries and other personnel that were running files back and forth around base._

_Natasha leaned back in her chair, twisting her bracelet around her wrist. “The Colonel said intel should be coming in tomorrow.”_

_“I’ve already got the team prepared and transportation ready for when the orders come in,” Steve added._

_“Until then, I’m here to keep you company.”_

_Natasha looked up and grinned when she saw Howard step into the room, stance causal with one hand in his pocket, another carrying a large briefcase, easy smile on his face._

_“Did you miss me?” the scientist asked, smile growing beneath his mustache._

_“Howard,” Peggy said, getting out of her chair to give the man a hug. “It’s so good to see you. How was New York?”_

_“Good, good.” Howard nodded. Bucky clapped him on the back as he took a seat at the long table usually reserved for more formal meetings. Steve shook his hand, and then he turned and gave Natasha his famous Howard Stark smirk. “I was able to get a little more research done on the Tesseract particles we retrieved from Hydra’s weapons. As well as working on a few other little projects before the good Colonel called me back here.”_

_“What kind of projects?” Steve asked._

_“Well,” Howard said, lifting up his briefcase and setting it on the table in front of him. “I heard you guys were getting close to finding Red Skull’s evil lair, so I figured I’d try out a few things that might help. Cap, I took the liberty of inspecting your shield. I shined it up a little bit and replaced the straps since they were getting a little worn down. Barnes, you will find a new, high-powered sniper rifle among your things,”_

_Bucky perked up at the mention of that and Howard smiled. “Ideal for piercing that thick Hydra armor,” the scientist added before turning and looking at Natasha. “And for you, darling Natasha, I’ve got something special for you.”_

_Howard started undoing the clasps on his briefcase and Natasha shot Steve a look. He shrugged, essentially telling her that he had no idea what to expect from the inventor either. Natasha watched as Stark carefully pulled out of his briefcase a sort of bracelet. She leaned forward in her chair to get a better look. It looked like a series of interconnected bullets, though it looked like only the top half of the cuff was completed._

_“Here, put it on,” Howard said, reaching it out to her._

_“It’s not gonna blow up in my face is it?”_

_“Now who gave you that idea?”_

_Steve shrugged, trying and failing to keep a smile off his face. Bucky outright laughed, and Peggy laid a hand on Howard’s arm._

_“Oh, don’t mind them, Howard,” Peggy soothed, her voice teasing, though Howard remained oblivious._

_Natasha just smiled and moved the fabric of her long-sleeved tee up her arm, extending her wrist out to Howard. Teasing forgotten, his eyes lit up as he fastened the bracelet around her wrist. “It’s still in the prototype phase, but the tests have been running pretty well so far,” he explained. “And I apologize for the weight, I’m working on a way to make it lighter.”_

_Natasha stood, moving her arm around to test the weight of it. “What does it do?”_

_“A couple different things,” Stark said, adjusting the waistband of his trousers as he stood. “If you press the toggle on the top, it’ll release a grappling line. I’m also working on making one of the compartments release toxic gas. There isn’t any in it right now, of course. And then there’s the best part, in my opinion. The electrical impulse. If you fist your hand, that will pull down the triggers on the glove, which should engage the charge. Once you hit your target, the charge should release, with no harm to you.” Howard demonstrated with his own hands as he spoke, pointing at the gauntlet every once in a while to show her how it worked. “You could try it, though, I don’t have any target for you to test it_ on _.”_

_She smirked at him playfully. “You’re not offering?”_

_“Ah, no,” Howard laughed, a tinge of nervousness to the sound, like he thought she might actually try something. “I’ve run the tests. At full power it’s enough to kill. I have it on the lowest setting right now, for safety reasons.”_

_Natasha nodded, testing it. She clenched her hand into a fist, feeling the triggers pull as she tightened her fingers, like Howard had described. The gauntlet hummed with power. She had to admit, it was pretty neat. She could only imagine what it would do fully charged once she made contact with a target._

_“The tests have been going pretty well, like I said, but give me a few more weeks and I’ll have a first model for you to try that will be field ready,” Howard said._

_Natasha unclenched her fist, deactivating the electrical pulse with a soft click. She slipped the gauntlet off and handed it back to Howard, who took it and shut it back into his briefcase. As he locked the case, he looked over his shoulder at her._

_“I do recommend, with the electric pulse, being careful around those fancy Tesseract weapons Hydra has. I doubt it would be good if you made direct contact with Tesseract energy.” He made a face and paused like he was thinking about it, and Natasha exchanged a look with Steve who just tilted his head. Howard turned and pointed at her. “Oh, and if you come up with any good names for it, let me know. I’ve been thinking_ Widow’s Bite, _but who knows what I come up with later.”_

_“Widow’s Bite, huh?” she asked, going to stand next to Steve’s chair, setting a hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his own, smiling up at her._

_Howard cocked his head at her, mouth curling up into a slow smile._

_Natasha shrugged, returning the smile. “You know, it’s not half bad.”_

_-:-_

_January, 1945_

_Natasha was pretty sure she would never be warm again. Her limbs were locked, stiff from the cold. Snow had started to fall about half an hour ago, and the fluffy flakes gathered on her hair, her shoulders. The cheery mood around the campfire helped take her mind off it a little bit. That and being seated in between Steve and Bucky. Steve was a furnace all on his own, and she pressed closer to his side, her breath billowing in front of her face._

_They’d finally gotten a lead on Zola after stealing a Hydra radio two weeks ago on a mission, shortly after the New Year had been rung in. They were currently freezing their asses off somewhere in the Alps, waiting until morning when they would_ hopefully _be intercepting a train that Zola was supposed to be on. Either way, they were all pretty eager. This was the most solid lead they’d gotten in weeks, and if they could bring Zola in, that meant they were that much closer to bringing down Schmidt himself. They’d been helping the Allies on the front lines in the meantime, but it was good to be back with just the Commandos, hunting down the last of Hydra._

 _Steve’s body shook against her as he laughed. At the moment, Dum Dum and Gabe were enrapturing everyone with a story. Natasha was having a hard time focusing because she was so goddamn_ cold _, but she looked up in time to see Dum Dum gesturing wildly with his hands, catching the tail-end of whatever he was recounting, and she smiled._

_Just as she started to get more comfortable, Steve shifted and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I should go check on the watch, make sure Morita and Falsworth are doing okay,” he murmured against her hair._

_Natasha made a face. “Leaving me here all alone in the cold?”_

_Steve chuckled, kissed her nose, smirk curling up the corners of his mouth as he pulled away. “I’ll make it up to you later.”_

_“I’ll hold you to that,” she said sternly._

_He grinned. “I know.” He stood and stepped away, heading towards the perimeter they’d set up around camp. Natasha immediately missed the warmth of his body and tucked her arms against her chest._

_“I thought you were from Russia,” Bucky quipped from her other side. “Aren’t you supposed to not get cold?”_

_“Ass,” she muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. He just laughed, head tipping back a little. When he looked back at her, he lifted an arm. An invitation. After a moment’s hesitation she scooted closer, pressing herself into his side. As Bucky wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head against his chest, she couldn’t help but be reminded of France, all those months ago, when they’d been in a similar position. That had been on the very front lines of the war and, admittedly, it had been terrifying. She was a little nervous now, but it was like that before every mission they went on. They were still in the middle of a war, and anything could happen. But right now, tucked away in their little clearing around the concealed campfire, laughing and telling stories like there was nothing wrong in the world, any worries she had disappeared._

_She leaned a little closer to Bucky. “I bet if you nailed Dum Dum hard enough with a snowball he’d fall right off his log.”_

_A downright boyish smile appeared on Bucky’s face in an instant. “You are so on.”_

_He reached with his right hand and gathered up some snow. It took him a minute to pack it firmly enough. Natasha leaned to the side so Bucky could get into a better position to throw it. Dum Dum was laughing boisterously, probably at his own joke, head thrown back, hands clutching at his abdomen. Dernier said something in French that had Gabe laughing harder than he had been before._

_"Hey, Dugan, think fast!” Bucky called as he stood._

_Dum Dum looked up just in time to get a snowball to the face. Startled, he did indeed topple sideways off his log into the snowdrift behind him. Natasha burst into laughter the same time as Bucky. Gabe looked like he was wiping tears from his eyes on the other side of the campfire. When Dum Dum recovered, he stood and hopped over the downed tree. He brushed snow off his bowler cap and then put it back on his head._

_Dugan was grinning huge as he started making his way towards her and Bucky. “Oh, you are so gonna get it, Barnes.”_

_Natasha watched as Dugan chased after Bucky, Bucky sliding a little on the snow as he moved quickly to avoid getting tackled. She couldn’t wipe the huge smile off her face if she tried, watching with Gabe and Dernier as Bucky and Dum Dum dashed around their little campsite, throwing snow at each other and laughing. Gabe started throwing a few snowballs as well, pelting the other two men in the back. Natasha packed one of her own into her hands and threw it, catching Bucky in the side of the head._

_He cried out, stumbling, laughing and wiping snow off his face as Dum Dum nearly caught up to him. “Nat! Whose side are you on?”_

_She just shrugged, giggling as Dum Dum got a hold of Bucky’s jacket and tackled him into the snow three feet away from her. They scuffled around for a few minutes, taking turns shoving each other’s face into the snow, before splitting apart and falling onto their backs. Natasha shook her head, grinning. Bucky and Dum Dum were both breathing hard, and it was another minute before they both sat up._

_Just then, Natasha spotted Steve walking back from the perimeter, still a little ways back behind Gabe and Dernier. She shot Bucky a quick glance, and then nodded in Steve’s direction. Bucky turned to see where she was looking, then smiled mischievously, already packing together a snowball. He waited until Steve was a little closer so as not to startle him too badly, and then as Steve stepped into the light of the fire, Bucky lobbed the snowball at his best friend’s head. Steve saw it coming a split second before it hit him, but it wasn’t quite soon enough, and Natasha watched as a good chunk of it caught him right in the face._

_They all burst into fresh fits of laughter then. Even Steve, surprised as he was, started smiling, looking straight to Bucky._

_Bucky shook his head, pointing at her. “It was Nat.”_

_She gaped at him, then looked back at Steve with faux seriousness written all over her face. “I would never!”_

_Steve just laughed before turning on Bucky. “Just remember, Buck, you started it.”_

_“Oh, shit—” Bucky was back on his feet in a matter of seconds, and it started back up again._

_Dum Dum came and sat by her, still brushing snow off himself. As Natasha watched Steve and Bucky run around, throwing well-aimed snowballs at each other, she could easily see the two of them as boys, chasing each other up and down the streets of Brooklyn. She smiled softly, and it must have caught Steve’s attention long enough, because he paused to look at her. His hair was damp from the snow and from running around, his cheeks slightly red from the cold. The adoration in his eyes was enough to make her forget how to breathe for a moment._

_The moment lasted just long enough for Bucky to land another snowball right in Steve’s face right before tackling him. They went down laughing. Bucky shoved one more wad of snow at Steve, before Steve pushed him off. Bucky rolled and stood, reaching a hand out and helping Steve to his feet._

_“I may have started and ended that fight,” Bucky said proudly, before glancing over at her, “but this was all her idea.”_

_Steve turned in her direction. “Oh, really?”_

_Natasha met his gaze evenly. “You can’t prove anything.”_

_He made his way over to her, grabbing her hands and pulling her to her feet. “I’m sure I could find ways to make you talk.”_

_He was giving her that smug little smirk of his, and she just shook her head at him. She leaned up, no more than an inch or two from being able to kiss him. “Shame, too,” she whispered, “because I’ve got next watch.”_

_He chuckled as she pulled out of his grasp, and walked over Dum Dum, looping her arm through his when he stood. “Come on, Dugan.”_

_She cast one more smile over her shoulder at Steve as she and Dum Dum headed towards the perimeter to relieve Morita and Falsworth. Steve smiled right back._

_-:-_

_When Natasha got back to the tent she was sharing with Steve and Bucky, she was freezing again. Bucky was sleeping, but she wasn’t too surprised to see Steve awake, a lantern casting a glow over everything, map and some other papers laid out in front of him._

_She kicked off her boots and set them by the entrance to the tent, before going and crouching by Bucky’s side. She gently touched his shoulder. “Bucky,” she whispered, and he groaned, shifting on his bedroll. “Bucky, it’s your watch.”_

_It took him another minute, but then he was up, pulling on his jacket and boots, strapping his rifle across his back, and heading out of the tent with a blearily mumbled good-bye. Natasha shrugged off her damp jacket and set it near her boots. Steve had folded up his map and tucked his other papers into his pack. He watched her quietly as she made her way over to him, sitting down in front of him, bringing her knees up to her chest to try and warm herself up._

_“Hey,” he greeted her softly. “How was watch?”_

_“Good. Quiet.”_

_He nodded. He’d taken off the top part of his Captain America uniform, so now he was just wearing his pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His hair had dried since his tussle with Bucky out in the snow. He pushed it out of his face as he met her eyes._

_“You should get some sleep before your watch,” she told him._

_“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to go over everything again, make sure that it’s air-tight.”_

_Natasha reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers lightly. “The plan will work just fine. They always do.”_

_He exhaled slowly, though he didn’t look fully convinced. There was still a hint of worry beneath the blue of his eyes. Wordlessly, Natasha stood and leaned towards him, bracing her arms against his shoulders as she swung a leg over his and lowered herself onto his lap. Steve’s gaze was locked on hers, hands reaching for her automatically as he watched her every move. When she cupped his face in between her hands, he startled._

_Quickly recovering, he lifted his own hands and placed them over hers, his skin hot to the touch. “Your hands are freezing,” he whispered, his face just an inch or two from hers. “Are you still cold?”_

_She figured the answer was pretty obvious, but he was sweet to have asked, so Natasha nodded. “Yeah.”_

_“Here.” Steve dropped his hands so he could reach behind him and grab his leather jacket. He brought it around her and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The extra layer warmed her, the smell of it—of him—soothed her. She relaxed and eased her body closer to his._

_“Hmm,” Steve hummed, playful smile forming on his lips._

_“What?”_

_He met her eyes, smirking. “I think it looks better on you. You should keep it.”_

_Natasha shook her head and laughed softly. “It’s yours, I can’t just take it.”_

_“I don’t even use it that much. The serum keeps my body temp pretty regulated so it takes a lot for me to get cold,” he insisted. His hands made their way down to her waist, slipping under the jacket, under her shirt. His hands were like fire against her still chilled skin. This time when he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper, “Keep it.”_

_Natasha wound her arms around his neck, fingers gently running through the hair at the back of head. She pressed her lips briefly to his and pulled back, resting their foreheads together. “Okay.” His thumbs were rubbing absently at her waist, and though she wanted to kiss him again, pull him closer, she could also feel herself shutting down. He needed sleep, too, since he’d be on watch after Bucky. “We should get some rest.”_

_“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing one more gentle kiss to her lips before he maneuvered them down onto his bedroll, pulling the blanket over them._

_With his leather jacket and his body heat, Natasha was perfectly warm under the blanket as Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. For some reason, she didn’t know if it was the jacket, or the quiet inside the tent, or the fact that she felt incredibly safe, but Natasha could feel the ‘I love you’ sitting on her tongue. It was right there, but before she could work up the courage to say it aloud, her eyes fluttered closed and she fell asleep._

_-:-_

_Natasha woke with a start, eyes snapping open as she sat up. Looking around, she realized that she was still in the tent, and not very much time must have passed since she fell asleep because the lamp was still on, and Steve was still next to her. Checking the watch she kept with her gear, she saw that only two hours had passed. Bucky and Dernier would be on watch for another hour, at least. Running a hand through her hair, she grabbed her canteen and swallowed a couple mouthfuls of water. Screwing the cap back on, she looked over at Steve. He had stirred a little, but he was still again, his chest rising and falling gently. He looked so peaceful. Young, too. Almost boyish. His lips were parted just so, long lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Natasha reached over and carefully pushed his hair back from his forehead._

_Smiling, she was just about to lay back down when Steve shifted beside her, arm reaching out. “Nat?”_

_“Hey,” she whispered, watching as he sat up, blinking a couple times to clear the sleep from his vision._

_“Hey,” he echoed, voice rough. He looked at her more closely and his brow furrowed. “You okay?”_

_The moment he asked, she suddenly was. She felt fine. Great, even. Wide awake and not even worrying about whatever dreams had woken her. She nodded. “I’m good.”_

_She found herself just staring at him, mouth curving into a smile. He seemed a little confused, but then he was smiling too._

_“What?” he laughed. “Do I have something on my face?”_

_“No,” she giggled. The words were sitting right there again._ I love you _. She could feel it, building up in her chest, heart thudding against her ribcage. Steve just waited, patient, hand reaching for hers._

_“I—” she faltered, swallowed, and tried again. “I love you.”_

_There was no lead up, nothing special about being here in this tent in the middle of winter with a war raging on around them. Natasha thought she would’ve been more nervous, but she wasn’t. The second she said it a weight lifted off her chest, and she suddenly felt lighter. She immediately wanted to say it again, over and over until she wore the words out, and then still again after that. Steve’s expression made it all the more worth it. It took a moment, but then the shock disappeared from his face. His eyes brightened, lips parted, hands sliding on her waist and pulling her close as he scanned her face._

_He leaned in and kissed her, soft and gentle, slowly warming her head to toe. When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper, “I love you, too.”_

_Natasha smiled huge, her stomach a knotted mess of butterflies. She gave him one more chaste kiss, then let out a shaky breath. “I should’ve said it before now. I guess I was scared of what might happen if I did.” She bit her lip. “The last person I said I love you to…he died. And I…”_

_“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, lifting a hand to her cheek. “You can tell me if you want. Or not. It’s your choice.”_

_She hesitated. She almost backed down, but…but she_ wanted _to tell him. Natasha licked her lips, and took a deep breath. “His name was Alexei Shostakov.” Just those words were almost enough to knock the breath out of her. She hadn’t said his name in so long…But Steve deserved to know. “He was the son of my first client. Alexei’s father owned a ballet studio and Brushov sent me in undercover as a dancer in the troupe. I was supposed to get close to Alexei, and eventually get close to his father so I could take him out.”_

_“What happened?”_

_She shrugged one shoulder. “We fell in love. I was eighteen and naïve and…he was the first person in a long time to treat me like a human. Even after I told him who I really was and why I was there. His father wasn’t exactly an innocent man, but still, Alexei was never angry at me.” Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to wipe them away. Steve moved impossibly closer, taking one of her hands into his, thumb smoothing across her skin, fingers bumping against her bracelet. “He was such a gentleman. He was kind and gentle and he made me feel like just a girl._

_“One night, before one of the shows, he brought all the dancers flowers.” She smiled a little at the memory. “My bouquet was the biggest, and I knew that was his way of saying that the flowers were just for me, and he only brought them for the other girls so it wasn’t so obvious.”_

_“Sounds like he loved you a lot,” Steve said. There was no jealously in his tone, no bitterness or anger, just honest observation._

_She met his eyes, squeezing his hand. “He did. He was good to me. Falling in love with him…that was the worst thing I could’ve done. I forgot about my mission, kept giving Brushov false reports so I could stay longer. I was still afraid we would get caught, but Alexei—he was so sweet—he just kept telling me that it would all work out, that he had a plan. And I believed him.” She paused, trying to push down on the emotion rising in her chest. A couple tears slipped down her cheeks and Steve lifted his other hand to wipe them away. She lifted her head and smiled at him softly._

_Taking a deep breath, Natasha pushed on. “Brushov started getting tired of waiting, so he gave me until the end of the week to kill Alexei’s father. I told Alexei and that night he snuck me out. We went to the place where we usually met up, and…he proposed.”_

_Steve’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “What did you say?”_

_She smiled a little nervously. “I said yes. I was so excited. He told me he wanted to run away with me. Away from his father, away from the Red Room and Brushov. He said he’d have everything together by the end of the week, and when Brushov came to collect me, we’d already be gone. And I agreed.”_

_She stopped, remembering exactly what came next. Steve could tell she was struggling, but he just held her hand and waited patiently for her to continue._

_“At the end of the week,” she started, trying hard to keep voice level, “Alexei was supposed to meet me at our spot, but when I got there he wasn’t there. So I waited. I was so scared. Something was wrong, I knew that much. Around midnight, I finally heard footsteps, but it wasn’t Alexei.”_

_“Brushov,” Steve said, voice low and tinged with anger. Part of her hoped that Steve never met Brushov. She knew exactly what both men were capable of, and she feared what would happen if they were ever in the same room together._

_Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I knew then that we’d been caught. Brushov didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the school, onto the stage.” Her eyes blurred with fresh tears. “Alexei was there, strapped to a chair. His father was on the ground, bullet hole between his eyes. Alexei, he…he was so scared. He kept calling my name and…and when he said he loved me that’s when Brushov’s men started beating him.”_

_“God,” Steve whispered under his breath._

_“They tortured him all night and made me watch. They weren’t even trying to get information out of him, it was all just to punish_ me. _” Her throat felt tight, more tears falling down her face. “They took him out back and killed him. Buried him in a shallow grave. Then it was just me and Brushov alone on that stage. His punishment was not kind. I’m lucky he didn’t kill me, too, but I was still his favorite. And I was the best, not even he could deny that. Still, he didn’t trust me quite the same after that night.”_

_She stared down at her hand, still twined together with Steve’s, and felt a little surge of pride. Brushov still scared her, and she feared what would happen if he ever met Steve, but right now, this was something he couldn’t take away from her. “After that night I dedicated myself, pushed myself to be even better than I was. I thought I’d put myself back in Brushov’s favor, but I guess not, considering he tried to blow me up.” She looked up as Steve chuckled. The adoration in his eyes was enough to knock the breath from her. “I promised myself never to fall in love again after that night. That didn’t exactly work either, but…I wouldn’t change it for a second.”_

_Her voice had dropped low. Steve was just looking at her, like she’d pulled the moon out of the sky and placed it in his open and waiting palms. Never again did she think someone would look at her like that. And never again did she think she would feel something so strongly for the person who did. Alexei had gotten far worse than he’d deserved that night. By the end of the beatings and torture, there was hardly a patch of his skin that hadn’t been covered in his own blood. He’d passed out a couple times, and she distinctly remembered the sharp, biting laughter of Brushov’s men. Brushov, who had stood silent and still as stone over her all night, making her watch as Alexei had been turned into a bloody, messy pulp. A fraction of the boy who’d brought her flowers and made love to her beneath a starry sky, while they’d tried not to look over their shoulders too much, who had shamelessly, bravely whispered I love you’s into her skin until she finally said it back._

_When they buried him, when Brushov beat her until she promised never to love again…a part of her had died that night too. Or at least, she thought so. She’d lost all her belief in love, all her desire for it buried in the ground by that ballet studio. That is until she met Steve. Steve, who was so beautiful and bright and kind, who had pulled her from the fire and saved her life in more ways than one. He’d helped her find her find her humanity again, that part of her she thought she’d lost the night Alexei died._

_“I love you,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry I waited so long to say it.”_

_He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “It’s okay.” His fingers touched the edge of her bracelet again. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I’m sorry it happened to you. No one should have to go through that.”_

_For what felt like the hundredth time that night, tears sprung to Natasha’s eyes. She lifted her other hand and wiped them quickly away. “I’m not used to this,” she admitted, “having people care about me._ Love me _. And I’m definitely not used to feeling the same way. It’s just been so long, that I’ve forgotten, but you deserve to know how I feel about you.”_

_Steve kissed her then. She leaned into him, finger hooking around the chain of his dog tags where it had fallen from his shirt while he’d slept. She pulled him close, lips parting against his, a soft noise escaping from the back of her throat. Steve’s hand, which had been holding hers, trailed up her arm, over her shoulder, until he was cupping her cheek in his hand. Natasha moved then. Steve sat up straighter and she swung a leg over his, pressing their hips flush together. She was breathless, dizzy with desire. But they were also in a tent, in the middle of winter, camped with the other Commandos close by. Natasha pulled back slightly, looking down at Steve’s open and slightly confused face._

_“You okay?” he asked, sounding just as out of breath as she was, leaning back a fraction of an inch, ready to give her space if that’s what she needed._

_“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly. “I just…it’s almost time for your watch and the other guys’ tents are not that far away from ours. I don’t know if we’ll be able to live it down if they hear us going at it.”_

_Steve chuckled, pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “Let them hear.” He kissed her again, and she almost couldn’t kiss him back because now she was laughing. “Besides, I said I’d make it up to you later for leaving you out in the cold.”_

_She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and she couldn’t help but think how similar this was to their earlier position. She hummed as he kissed her jaw, then her neck. “Mm, I guess you did.”_

_He grinned devilishly, and before she knew it, he was wrapping his arms around her waist and turning them over so she was on her back, his warm body hovering over hers. She smiled, pulling him down to kiss him over and over until they were both breathing harder than before._

_She was still in the jacket he’d given her, and though she’d been grateful for it earlier, now she was practically overheating. It took a little bit of wiggling and a lot more laughter from both of them, but pretty soon she’d gotten her arms untangled from the sleeves and she was tossing the jacket somewhere next to her. Steve’s shirt was next. She ran her hands over the hardened muscles of chest and abdomen, sighing his name as he pressed more soft kisses to her neck._

_He started moving down then, his hands hot against her skin as he pushed up the hem of her shirt, fingers dancing over her scars before pressing a kiss to any he could reach. Then his lips were moving right above the waistband of her pants and she was arching her back at his touch._

_"Steve,” she whispered, still trying to keep quiet._

_She swore she felt him smirk against her skin, and she nearly scolded him, but then his fingers were working on the buttons of her pants and she shut up. She wanted all her clothes—and his—off, but this was risky enough as it was, and the last thing they needed was to be completely naked if some kind of emergency were to happen. Natasha left her shirt on, and Steve yanked her pants down her legs, shoving the garment to the side once her feet were untangled. She clutched the edge of the bedroll as Steve started leaving a trail of kisses up her legs. She sighed as his lips latched onto a spot on her inner thigh. He moved higher then, dangerously close to the apex of her thighs, before he kissed her stomach, and then pulled her underwear off too._

_Natasha reached for his belt before he could do anything else. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle as she impatiently tried to get it undone. She nearly laughed as she finally managed to undo the clasp. She had barely shoved his pants down to his knees before Steve was leaning back over her, covering her mouth with his. He slowed down for a moment, kissing her thoroughly._

_“I wish I could take my time with you,” he murmured against her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip._

_"You’ll just have to make it up to me later, right?” she teased, sliding her hands down his sides and pulling his hips towards hers. Despite their state of undress, the fact that he was pressed hard against her inner thigh, Steve pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, and it was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced._

_His thumb brushed across her cheek, swept her slightly sweat-damp hair back from her face. “I love you.” The words were a breath against her skin, his mouth so temptingly close to her own._

_She kissed him once, twice, “I love you, too.”_

_Another moment of slow kisses before he was pushing inside her. Natasha gasped against his mouth, her hands sliding around him, up over his shoulders, trying to find some purchase without digging her short nails in too hard. He started slow, steadily pulling out before pushing back in, over and over until he gradually picked up speed. Natasha nearly swatted him on the arm because_ fuck. _How the hell was she was supposed to stay quiet when it felt this good? She clutched his shoulders, moved a hand around the back of his neck so she could pull him down for another kiss, if only to muffle the moans he was drawing from her._

_“Steve,” she sighed, her voice hoarse. Her heart was pounding, familiar tingle of heat making its way down her spine. “Steve.”_

_He kissed her again, his thrusts coming a little quicker, air rattling a little unsteadily from his lungs as their breaths mingled. Natasha was holding onto him tighter than ever. She was breathing hard, trying to stay quiet even as it felt like she was burning up._

_“Steve, I—” Natasha cut off in a low moan, back arching as he reached a hand between them, stroking over her clit, rubbing small circles. A few more seconds and she was trembling with release, Steve falling over the edge seconds later. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing soft kisses against her skin._

_They lay there for a few moments, trying to catch their breaths. Natasha ran her fingers through the damp hair at the nape of his neck as her pulse slowed. When Steve pulled back to look at her, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. He laughed a little, pressing a languid kiss to her lips._

_“You warm now?” he asked teasingly._

_“Mm,” she hummed, reaching up to push his hair back from his forehead. “Delightfully so.”_

_He gave her another soft kiss. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”_

_"Well, too bad.” She smiled, giving him a little push._

_Steve laughed, but he sat up, pulling his pants back up and buckling his belt. Natasha started redressing as well while Steve looked for his shirt. She found it first, handing it to him the same time as he dangled her underwear off his finger. “I believe these are yours,” he said with a smirk. She snatched the garment away, shaking her head and trying hard not to laugh. She failed, laughing as she balled up his shirt and threw it at him. He caught it easily and tugged it over his head as Natasha pulled her underwear and pants back on, wriggling her toes in her socks to try and keep them warm._

_Natasha sat up and started straightening her shirt just as Bucky came back into the tent, dusted with snow, cheeks red from the cold. He shut the tent flaps behind them and turned towards them. “Hey—” he stopped short, looking them over. His eyes rolled so fast Natasha was sure they would fall right out of his head. “Jesus fucking Christ you two, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other for_ one night _?”_

_“Shh,” Natasha hissed as she found Steve’s leather jacket and tugged it on. “We’re trying not to wake everyone up.” She was being serious, but she was also trying not to laugh again. She caught Steve’s eye and saw he was trying to do the same._

_Bucky plopped down on his bedroll, noting the exchange. “You two are fucking ridiculous, you know that?”_

_Natasha just shrugged, curling up onto Steve’s bedroll and tugging the blanket over her. She watched as Steve finished suiting up while Bucky settled in for a couple hours of sleep. Steve bent down and kissed her forehead._

_“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he told her. He stood and looked at Bucky. “See ya, Buck.”_

_“Yeah, whatever, punk,” Bucky called after a grinning Steve as he left the tent. “Try to keep it in your pants this time! Wouldn’t want anything to freeze off!”_

_Steve flipped off his friend, then disappeared, sealing the tent flaps behind him. Natasha just laughed softly, settling in. She turned on her side, looking at Bucky. “Sorry, Bucky.” She was still teasing him just a little, but she was also being serious._

_He shook his head again, but she could tell he wasn’t really mad as he looked at her. “It’s all right, Nat. Knowing you two, it probably won’t be the last time,” he chuckled and she smiled at him._

_She paused, licking her lips. Bucky was pretty much her best friend, and told him almost everything. She wanted to tell him this, too. After all, he was the one who told her all those months ago not to hold back. “I told Steve I loved him.”_

_Bucky blinked, then his mouth curved up into a gentle smile. “I’m glad. You two are still disgustingly, nauseatingly cute, but I’m glad.” He gave her a look when he saw her smiling again. “What?”_

_“I just…” she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “I never thought I’d be_ cute _with someone. I guess it’s one of those things I never thought of, that I was never exposed to because of—well, because of everything in my past.”_

_There was a pause, the air in the tent growing just a little bit heavier, settling on Natasha’s chest as Bucky looked at her, no smile on his face. A gentle, but fierce protective glow sparked in his blue eyes. “You didn’t deserve any of it, you know. What they did to you, you didn’t deserve to go through it.”_

_“I know.” She exhaled slowly. “Or at least I think I know. You and Steve and Peggy, you keep telling me that, that I didn’t deserve it. I’m trying to believe it, and for the most part I do, really.” She turned onto her back, not looking at him. “But for so long they made me feel responsible. If I did poorly, if I wasn’t good enough, they made me believe that it was_ my _fault. So I’m trying, but I think it’s still gonna take a long time for me to fully accept it. Having you—all of you—in my life helps.” She turned to look at him again. It was one of the most honest conversations she’d ever had with someone, the first time she’d ever really opened up about this particular subject. she didn’t really know where this whole confession had come from, but she felt lighter for it._

_“I think I understand,” Bucky said after a moment._

_“I really hope you never fully understand,” she told him softly. “Because that would mean you were in a situation like mine, and I don’t ever want something like that to happen to you.”_

_Another moment of silence, and then he slowly grinned. “Is that your way of saying you love me too, Romanoff?”_

_She smiled too. “Sure, Barnes.”_

_He laughed, and then put turned off the lamp still lit between their bedrolls. In the dark he spoke softly, “Goodnight, Natasha.”_

_“Goodnight, Bucky.”_

_-:-_

_Bucky blamed Zola for the knot in his stomach. Since he’d been shipped out, he’d gotten plenty of bad feelings about whichever situation he happened to be in at the time. Azzano had probably been the last_ really bad _feeling he’d gotten. He distinctly remembered the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, the way his gut twisted, even before he and the others had seen the massive Hydra tank crawling out of the distance._

_This morning, that feeling had been the same one in Azzano, except magnified. His stomach was a tangled mess of knots, nausea sitting in the back of his throat when he woke up. He’d rolled over and seen Natasha already gathering up her things. He composed himself before she could tell something was wrong. He didn’t know if he could handle her questioning him right now, because he had no doubt that everything would spill out of his mouth. It was just Zola. That’s all that was bothering him._

_It had been over a year since he’d last seen the doctor, but he still sharply remembered the first time he’d encountered him. It had been two days after he and the 107 th had been captured and brought into enemy territory, to that awful weapons factory. He and two dozen other healthy men had been lined up and inspected, prodded and measured. He still squirmed when he thought of the way Zola’s eyes lit up when he’d seen Bucky. _Yes, _the doctor had said,_ this one will do marvelously.

 _After that it had been a blur of experiments. More poking and prodding, hours,_ weeks _spent on that cold examination table. Bucky remembered screaming sometimes. He didn’t want to remember the in-between time. That is, until Steve rescued him. That, too, had felt like a dream at first. But then Steve had touched him, held onto him a lot more kindly than Zola or any of the other scientists who had stripped him down and used him._

_Zola couldn’t hurt him anymore. That’s what he had to keep reminding himself of. He focused on packing up his things, and then grabbing rations out of his pack. He exited the tent and found Natasha sitting by the dead campfire, looking about as miserable and cold as she had last night. Steve was talking to Gabe about the Hydra communications and the other Commandos were milling around, eating their own rations, packing up, or trying to keep warm by moving around._

_“Hey,” he greeted Natasha as he sat down next to her._

_“Hey,” she echoed, scooting a little closer to him for warmth and she chewed on her own cold rations._

_He knew they couldn’t risk the smoke from a fire but, damn, was it cold. Being out in the cold made Bucky think of a moment last year, just a few months after Natasha had been brought to base. They’d set up camp the night before infiltrating a Hydra base, and she’d taken off her boots and her socks and danced ballet barefoot in the snow. Bucky knew that up until that point he had been trying his best to ignore her. He’d been polite to her, but still, he’d been trying his damndest not to get attached to her. But that night, she’d revealed another little part of her, so effortlessly and gracefully, acting like it was no big deal after the fact. He should’ve known then that he was screwed, that she was going to wiggle her way into his life, right next to Steve, and it would be impossible to get her out._

_Thinking back on it, that was one of the first nights he’d actually allowed himself to get close to her, not counting some of their first, angry confrontations, of course. Her touch, her warmth, the teasing light in her eyes, it had reminded him a little of Steve. Maybe he was just doomed to fall in love with people he could never have. He wasn’t even sure if that’s what this was._ Love _. But no other word felt strong enough. He would gladly die for either of them._

_Bucky looked at Natasha now, at the slight frown on her face as she sat huddled against his side. “Hey, remember that time last winter when you took your shoes off and danced barefoot in the snow?” Bucky said around his mouthful of cold breakfast, teasing her once again about being cold. She glared at him. Oh yeah, the cold was definitely making her grumpy. “What happened to toughing out those Russian winters?”_

_“First of all, that was in April. It was the end of winter. Practically spring. Second…” she blanked, and Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. She went back to glaring at him. “Oh, shut up. Like you’re not cold.”_

_He just laughed and finished the last of his breakfast. A moment later Steve was calling for them to finish breaking camp, so they could start making their way to the ridge to wait for Zola’s train. Just as they were about to head out, that bad feeling started creeping up his spine again. He caught sight of Steve across the clearing._

_"Nat.” He turned towards her, gently touching her arm to guide her just out of earshot._

_“What is it?” she asked. He could tell she was concerned, but trying not to show it. They were still out in the open._

_“I just, um,” he blew out a breath, avoiding her gaze. “Look, it’s nothing, really. I just need you to promise me something.”_

_Natasha looked at him warily, taking a step closer. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”_

_“If something were to ever happen to me, I need you to look after Steve. Protect him.” The words came out in a rush before he could overthink it and chicken out._

_Natasha blinked, her features slackening in surprise. “James, what—? Look at me. Why are you asking me this? Nothing’s going to happen to you, you know that, right?”_

_"I know, I know,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’m sure the mission is gonna go smoothly. But last night, what you said about never wanting anything bad to happen to me. I’ve already been through something horrible, with Zola’s experiments. I just want you to promise me that if something like that were ever to happen again that you would watch after Steve.” He took a breath, watching a crease form between her brows as they scrunched together. “I promised his Ma I’d keep him out of trouble. I just want to know that there’ll be someone there to do that for me when I’m gone.”_

_She was silent for a long moment, scanning his face. He could see her trying to find an answer, and explanation for all of this. A muscle in her jaw twitched, but then she exhaled slowly. “Nothing is going to happen to you—”_

_“I know, just promise me, Natasha—”_

_"I promise.” She reached out and touched his arm, voice soft. “I promise.”_

_“Thank you.” He wanted to say more, tell her that he never wanted anything to happen to her either, but his voice caught in his throat. Natasha seemed to understand though. When they’d gotten to the point where they could read each other this well, he didn’t know, but he was grateful when she took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly._

_When she pulled away, she gave him a little smirk. “Someone’s gotta take care of you two, right?”_

_He laughed. The weight in his chest lifted a little. “Yeah, I guess so.”_

_-:-_

_Natasha stood with Steve and Bucky on the ridge overlooking the train tracks. They’d already hooked up the zipline they’d be using to get onto the train. Gabe and Morita were on the radio, ready to relay any Hydra messages they intercepted. Falsworth was looking through his binoculars, monitoring the tracks. Now it was a waiting game._

_"You know when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?” Bucky asked Steve._

_“Yeah, and I threw up?” Steve replied._

_“This isn’t payback, is it?”_

_The corner of Steve’s mouth curled up. “Now why would I do that?”_

_Natasha smiled. Bucky’s request earlier in the morning had made her nervous. A pit of worry had settled into her stomach and seemed content to root there, spreading throughout her body until she was practically shaking with the bad feeling. But now, listening to them quip back and forth like usual, some of that dissipated. Everything was going to go smoothly. She had to believe that._

_“We were right,” Gabe said, causing them all to turn and look at them. “Doctor Zola’s on the train. Hydra dispatch gave ‘em permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s gong they must need him bad.”_

_Steve looked at her, then Bucky, giving the slightest dip of his head before putting his helmet on. Steve turned to her. “You know we’ve got a small window of time to get onto the train. You’re sure about coming along?”_

_Natasha nodded. Steve knew better than to try and keep her from joining a fight, but she could tell that he was just trying to make sure everything went according to plan, that they all came out the other end of it unharmed. “I’m sure. Gabe’s gotta get to Zola, and you and Bucky can’t cover the rest of the train by yourselves in time. I’ll be quick, I promise.”_

_He smiled a little, and she briefly thought of last night, the smile he’d given her as he told her he loved her._

_“Let’s get going, because they’re moving like the devil,” Falsworth said as Morita and Dum Dum handed out the handlebars they’d be using on the zipline._

_“We’ve only got about a ten second window,” Steve announced to them all, reminding them all of the information they’d gone over a dozen times. “You miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.”_

_“Mind the gap,” Falsworth reminded them._

_Natasha took up her place behind Gabe. She’d be going last because she had Howard’s gauntlet that he’d given her. They’d done half a dozen tests on the grappling line he’d put in, so if she failed to make it onto the train, she’d catch onto the zipline with her grappling line. There were risks involved with that too, of course, but she was the smallest and the lightest, and she had the best chance of still making it onto the train if she went last._

_“Better get moving bugs,” Dugan called, giving Natasha a big grin._

_Dernier gave the signal and Natasha watched as Steve gripped his handlebars and eased himself off the cliff and onto the zipline. Bucky and Gabe quickly followed. Natasha waited for no more than a second at the edge, watching the others sail down the line and towards the speeding train. Then, she too was on the line, her body hanging out over the open air of the gorge. Just as the train was about to pass out of her reach, she dropped, crouching down and then flattening herself to the top of the train._

_Breathing out a sigh of relief, she watched as Steve and Bucky made their way down one of the side ladders on the center of the train while Gabe made his way towards the front. Natasha found her way to the ladder at the back of the train, stepping down carefully and opening the door. She ducked inside, sliding the door shut behind her._

_It was quiet. The only sound was the train as they sped over the tracks. Natasha held her gun up, carefully scanning the length of the train car she was in. Her senses were on high alert, over a decade of training telling her that someone was here, but she still couldn’t tell where. She skirted by crates of weapons lining the walls, heading for the door separating her from the next car. As she got close to the door she tensed when she heard distant, near indistinguishable gunfire from one of the car trains ahead of her._

_Moving quickly now, she slammed her hand on the control panel to the door. It opened, and just as she stepped into the car, a Hydra soldier swung around the corner, landing a roundhouse kick to her abdomen. Natasha gasped and she went sprawling into the car she’d just come from. Her gun clattered out of her hand, landing just out of reach. The Hydra soldier stalked slowly towards her, none of his face visible beneath his black helmet. She sucked in a breath, crawling backwards before climbing to her feet. The soldier paused, sizing her up. He was lightly armored, carrying what looked like normal guns in his belt. She wondered why he hadn’t pulled them yet, but she figured he must have wanted a fight instead._

_Natasha grinned and crooked her finger at him, beckoning him forward. He charged, using his momentum to launch a vicious punch her way. Now that she was prepared, she sidestepped easily. She got behind him and tried to kick out the back of his knees, but he was quick, spinning on his heel and aiming another punch her way. Natasha blocked the blow. They traded and blocked punches for a moment, until he overstepped. Natasha grabbed him arm and twisted, flipping him to the ground. He kicked out as he went down, landing a blow that caused her to stumble._

_Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw him finally reach for one of the guns in his belt. Remembering the gauntlet on her wrist, she activated the grappling line. It lassoed around his wrist and Natasha yanked, hard. He skidded across the floor, back towards her. She stomped a foot down on his stomach and he groaned, the noise muffled by his helmet._

_“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” she growled, grabbing onto his arm and yanking it behind him as she flipped him onto his stomach. She lashed his wrists together with the line, disconnecting it from her Widow’s Bite bracelet. When she finished, she fisted her hand, this time activating the taser built into the bracelet. She jammed it into the back of his neck. He screamed for a moment, body twitching. Then he stilled. Natasha was pretty sure he was dead, or at the very least, he was unconscious. She didn’t bother checking._

_Grabbing her gun off the ground, she raced towards the distant gunfire deeper into the train. She was about mid-train when she felt the whole thing shudder, accompanied by a large bang and the sound of ripping metal. The train only trembled just so on the tracks, and kept going. But Natasha’s gut had twisted, and she ran forward. Natasha slowed when she got to the train car with the hole ripped through the side. She stopped in her tracks completely when she saw Bucky, shield on his arm, firing his gun at a heavily armored Hydra soldier. Steve was on the ground, already moving to push himself up just as the Hydra soldier let loose another blast from his arm cannons._

_“No!” Natasha screamed as Bucky was thrown to the side, straight towards the hole in the side of the train._

_Steve was already on his feet, grabbing his shield and launching it at the Hydra soldier. The man went down, but Steve was already moving again. “Bucky!” he shouted. Natasha stepped up towards the edge of the hole as Steve tore off his helmet, throwing it at her feet. “Hang on!”_

_Natasha reached for her gauntlet, for the grappling wire. Her hand was on the button before she remembered that she’d used it. A sour taste filled her mouth, as she realized she could do nothing but watch. The wind whipped loose strands of hair around her face. Her stomach was completely tangled in knots, her heart pounding loud against her ribcage. She could barely breathe as Steve grabbed onto the side of the train and inched his way over towards Bucky. Her eyes darted between the two of them as Steve reached out for Bucky, clinging to the half broken railing._

_“Grab my hand!”_

_Steve reached out, their fingers inches apart._

They’re going to make it, _Natasha thought, heart racing._ They’re going to make it.

_“Come on, come on,” she murmured, barely a breath, stolen away by the wind._

_Then, the next second, the side of the train shifted, the railing Bucky was hanging onto groaned. His eyes widened, caught her gaze. Then he looked at Steve just as the rail dipped downward._

_Then the railing snapped._

_Steve lunged forward as far as he could. “No!”_

_Bucky screamed as he fell, Steve’s hand still extended towards him._

_Natasha was sure that she screamed too, but she couldn’t hear it. She put a hand over her mouth, knees trembling as the train continued to rumble along the tracks as if it weren’t suddenly one passenger lighter._

Bucky _. She couldn’t even speak. He was just…_ gone. _Her eyes scanned the snowy ravine, the river far below, like if she thought hard enough, she could conjure up a net to catch him. It was only a matter of seconds, maybe a minute, but it felt like hours that she stood at the mouth of the hole, watching the landscape race behind them. She looked at Steve past the tears burning in her eyes. He still hung onto the side of the train, head bowed, body hunched in a way that signaled a man past the point of defeat._

_“Steve,” she croaked. She cleared her throat. “Steve, you should…you should get back inside…”_

_Natasha didn’t know if he’d heard her. She didn’t know if she had the strength to speak again. She couldn’t believe he was just gone. He had been right there._ Right there. _So, so close. They’d had him._ They’d had him _and now he was…he was…_

 _He was her best friend and he was gone._ If something were to ever happen to me, I need you to look after Steve. _That’s what he’d made her promise to do. She’d been so scared_ _when he’d asked her that, because the thought of anything happening to him, to Steve, it was too much. And now she had to face that head on. She nearly sank to her knees. She felt like someone had reached down her throat, closed a cold fist around her heart and_ ripped _, tossing what was left down into the ravine beside Bucky’s body. She’d known Bucky for a little over a year. But Steve had known Bucky his whole life, and Natasha couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was feeling._

_“Steve,” she said again._

_This time, thankfully, he moved, carefully easing his way back to the interior of the train. Natasha reached out, touched his arm. When she looked at his face, she was heartbroken, terrified, by what she saw there. She’d never seen such absolute emptiness. Something inside of him had broken. Snapped off like the handle of the train, like Bucky’s only lifeline. She knew, she knew with her whole shattered heart that this was not something she could fix._

_But, just as quickly he was composing himself. A soldier on the battlefield who had seen friends die before. He picked up his helmet and shield, wiped his free hand across his tear-stained face. He cleared his throat, and schooled his features into that of a leader, of Captain America. Natasha’s cheeks were still streaked with tears. She copied his movements and wiped them away, for him and to make herself feel stronger._

_She reached for his hand. “Steve—”_

_He pulled away gently. “Gabe’s up front. He has Zola. We need to finish the mission.”_

_She looked at him a moment longer. “Okay.”_

_Steve paused, then lifted a hand and touched her cheek. It only lasted a second before he was pulling away again, but for the moment, it was enough. He turned and headed towards the front of the train, footsteps heavy like he was carrying a million pounds on his shoulders. Natasha had no choice but to follow, leaving the hole in the train, and Bucky, behind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I enjoy knowing what music people listen to when they write, and I like sharing as well. I found this fic's song (like THE song) a while back but I guess I haven't shared it yet? But anyway, take a listen to "Remains" by Bastille Vs. Rag'N'Bone Man Vs. Skunk Anansie. It is literally the epitome of this fic! Like, it's just so good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts!


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